


Life, Love, Lies; All to Quell

by NaraGal95



Series: Only One Of Us Needs To Fall That Hard [6]
Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Al is not as sex-repulsed, Al is not as touch-repulsed, Alastor is only loving towards his Angel, Alive Alastor, Alive Angel Dust, Alive Angel!Anthony, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe of an Alternate Universe, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Asexual Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Character Death, Hate Crimes, Heartbreak, Homophobic Language, Love/Hate, M/M, Sex, Soft Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Temporary Character Death, Trust Issues, Violent Scenes, long chapters, mentions of cannibalism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:34:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 31,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24412126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NaraGal95/pseuds/NaraGal95
Summary: Alternate Universe of an Alternate Universe: You've heard the story of when the angel Anthony and the demon Alastor met in Hell and how their friendship slowly turned to love. What if, before the two had died, they were romantically involved? This story follows Anthony and Alastor, years before their deaths as they lived and met in Hollywood; one aspiring to be an actor, the other hating the fact that his work relocated him without his permission.Otherwise, an alternative version of They’ve Met Before, But Don’t Recall (part 2 of series); in this version an aged up version of Anthony, and an aged down version of Alastor fell in love in Hollywood. But the city of glitz and glamour has its way of taking light away from the world, even if that light was unknowingly already dangerously close to a very dark presence.Anthony wants to be an actor in the picture shows, but the Great Depression sure does make it difficult, but this radio host he met at the club promises to help him become a star.Alastor is a radio host, and a disguised serial killer, whom is dangerously bored and livid but perhaps this aspiring actor can entertain him; he’s sure the prey is worthy enough.
Relationships: Alastor/Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel)
Series: Only One Of Us Needs To Fall That Hard [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1738963
Comments: 20
Kudos: 183





	1. Hooray for Hollywood!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in “They’ve Met Before, But Don’t Recall” how Anthony was almost 15 when the two met, he’s now 20 and Alastor how he was in his low thirties he’s now 25. And in this version Alastor never met Anthony in the diner (and this will go more into detail in the story). 
> 
> Also this is a very, very long chapter. For a while I struggled with where to end this chapter and it basically added like five pages onto what I had already written. 
> 
> Warning: There is a sex scene a little over halfway through. It’s not very descriptive and honestly I pass over a lot of the details so don’t expect some real juice. Even as an Ace person I personally can read and even write a sex scene, I’ve done so in the past just fine (since I'm not repulsed just not interested), but I just don’t really feel like it for this story so sue me (not really, I'm poor, you won't get anything from me I promise).

</|\> </|\> </|\>

“You _cannot_ be serious.” Alastor stated, his eyes narrowed in disbelief and anger as he watched his boss with contempt.

The radio host of New Orleans was called into the office of the station owner just minutes before, the topic of conversation was to be the recent expose on the Hollywood film industry that despite the Depression happening all around them, seemed to be cranking out films left and right and seemingly making good turnarounds. The radio host had imagined that perhaps he would be sent on another trip, to do some other expose elsewhere or do a follow up, but what he heard from the owner’s mouth was far, far worse.

“Yes, Alastor, I’m serious.” The fatter, shorter, cigarette smelling man confirmed, raising a brow at Alastor’s apparent face of disgust. The man before him always seemed so gentlemanly; always well groomed in a brown vest and tie, black slack, white pressed dress shirt, a smile always on his face. But currently the man before him wasn’t smiling, in fact he looked angry but the owner didn’t care. He had already agreed to the contract set before him by a partner station. “You are to go back to Hollywood and stay there, continuing covering the movies and the state of the Depression. Whatever stories you state from there will also be played here so this is actually a very good deal for one as young as yourself.”

Though, yes, for a twenty-five year old young man, this job was worth jumping at, Alastor hated anywhere that wasn’t New Orleans. He preferred the smells and energy of the bayous and of the city itself. Plus, it made his hobby of killing people easier to hide. For a couple years now he had been reporting on himself, with no one else none the wiser that he was the infamous serial killer carefully killing people, only trace clues being left behind and bodies seemingly vanishing. But that was simply because Alastor consumed the people, and the swamp creatures did the rest of the clean up quite nicely. If he left and the killing stopped, it wouldn’t take long for someone to put two and two together. This was more of a pain than anything else.

“And think about it this way, son,” the station owner added, pulling out his cigarette case, “this is also a raise for you, which ain’t too shabby in these times.”

“You didn’t consult me.”

“Don’t need to, I sign your checks.” He said simply as he took out and lit a cigarette, taking a large drag of it, blowing the smoke up into the room.

Alastor inhaled softly, calming himself. “Yes, but I have business here that I can’t leave. My sick mother, for instance. No one else in my family is alive to care for her.”

That, of course, was a lie. Dear mother had died years ago in a tragic hunting accident and her body was eaten by crocodiles but no one else knew that.

“With the money you’d make you can just hire someone, spread the wealth around in these dire times.” The man stated, that for once being one of the kindest things he had ever said. “’Sides, you will have to come back here every once in a while anyway for some of your usual segments so you’ll still be travelling around doing your reports.”

Alastor sighed and pulled his glasses of his face, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his free hand. At least there’s that. Perhaps he can make this work seeing as it seems he doesn’t have much of a choice and killing the owner wasn’t an option, he’s too high profile of a kill. Too many people would actually miss the bastard. “When would I have to go out there?”

“That-a-boy!” The owner stated as he stood, walking around the desk to slap a hand on the man’s shoulders, Alastor flinching at the touch, holding back the urge to break the wrist of that hand on his shoulder. “Within the week! The partner station already set up an apartment for you near them. Rent’s not too bad, neighborhood’s good, or so they say.”

“Terrific.” Alastor mustered a smile as he placed his glasses back on.

His boss released his shoulder, finally and went back to sit down at his desk. “It’ll be sad to see you go, my boy, but you’re on to bigger and better things!”

And not to mention it would still benefit him regardless, if not help him make more money.

Alastor’s smile grew as he gave a nod. “Thanks for the opportunity. I’ll be heading out now.”

His boss waved him off and Alastor exited the office, closing the door behind him. He released a small growl of exasperation as proceeded to his own office. Perhaps he should reconsider killing his boss but more importantly he needed to squeeze one more murder in before he left to keep up appearances.

</|\> </|\> </|\>

Alastor did not enjoy living in Hollywood. Sure the job was the same, the apartment was indeed nice, and the potential prey for his murdering was far more colorful but the city just drained everything from him. It wasn’t like New Orleans where it fed him, gave him his creativity. This town, despite being the one that produces such miraculous and wonderful worlds on the screen is truly just the most uncreative town. Everyone was drab and boring all of them wanting to be famous and it was sickening. How fame rots the mind of feeble humans making them idiots and ill conversationalists.

He was here for a couple weeks and he contemplated just quitting and heading back home. But even he knew that was a bad idea. There weren’t many jobs to come by and though the market crashed nearly seven years ago things were at the all time worst. Quitting now would be basically shooting himself in the foot. He was one of the lucky ones in which his industry, much like the film industry, was a necessity. Everyone still needed their entertainment and news despite not having barely a dollar in their pockets.

The radio host had been heading out most every night, debating if he wanted to continue his murdering spree here as well or just keep it strictly to New Orleans. Of course there were many negatives to here; it would be harder to keep things tidy, there would probably be more eyes and manpower here considering there hasn’t been a serial killer in Hollywood since Gordon Northcott and he was hung in 1930. But then again, killing always was the most entertaining thing to him. It would certainty help the dullness in his life in Hollywood.

He was exploring the city at night, discovering the seedy underside of the city in its many discreet clubs of sin and debauchery. It was on this such night that Alastor wandered into such a club, finding a small table in a dark corner. The room was dimly lit everywhere and most of the people were male, a couple scattered females chattering away. The broadcaster placed his order, not truly caring what he stumbled into as long as it was entertaining even for a moment. There was a stage and a small dance floor, which was empty at the moment despite a small band playing music in the background. He didn’t give it much thought, thinking that most males here didn’t seem like they came here to dance, most of them in pairs or even trios, quietly talking with touches that lasted for seconds too long to just be friendly. The only tables, as Alastor noticed, that were with only one person at them were the ones closest to the empty dance floor, his own table at the farthest edge of this boundary.

As the band finished playing their song, a man wearing coattails walked onto the stage and to a mic stand in the center, talking into the mic. “Good evening, everyone! I know you all have been waiting patiently for our next performer so may I introduce the girl who needs to introduction; you know her, you love her, Miss Antonia!”

At the mention of the name the room erupted into applause, even the women as Alastor could see. This Antonia sure had her fans to say the least, but it did seem odd that in this type a club they would all get excited for a woman to perform.

Except it wasn’t a woman.

As the announcer walked off the stage and the band began to play a recognizable jazzy tune, a man _dressed_ as a woman came out. He was tall, slender, with pale white skin, striking blue eyes. He was wearing a wig, a blonde one that hung just a bit past his shoulders, large ringlets framing his face. His costume an all white, capped off sleeves floor-length dress, with ostrich feathers framing the fake bosom the man was adorned with and formed the bottom half of the dress, almost creating an a-line shape with the amount of feathering. The dress, simply put, looked just like the one from the movie the song came from, Alastor only assuming that was the whole point of ‘Miss Antonia’s’ performance.

As the band finished the introduction of the song, the applause had died down as the performer started to sing.

_“Heaven, I'm in Heaven,  
An’ my heart beats so that I can hardly speak  
An’ I seem to find the happiness I seek  
When we're out together dancin’, cheek to cheek.”_

The singer, remarkably, sounded amazing. Though he was singing Fred Astaire’s part from the movie, he danced in place on the stage as if he were Ginger Rodgers. Alastor watched in amusement as the performer did quite the splendid job on the stage. He could feel his attention fully grabbed by the cross dresser, he also noticing that those closest to the dance floor were getting exceedingly rowdy and excited. It was like they knew something he didn’t. But as he continued to watch the performer, it was clear to him that the male had some talent which led him to wonder why he was here performing in these shady clubs when he could try his hand at being a true star.

Suddenly, the performer abandons the mic and takes the steps down to the dance floor, the men nearest there all standing and clambering towards the cross dresser as he simply choose a suitable male, dancing with him only for a moment before changing partners himself, gliding though the sea of hungry men with such ease.

_“Oh! I love to climb a mountain,  
An’ to reach the highest peak,  
But it doesn't thrill me half as much  
As dancin’ cheek to cheek!”_

The man continued singing, not skipping a beat, even when a man wouldn’t let go of him towards the end of that previous stanza. The performer, though he kept singing, Alastor could see the signs of a beginning struggle as the cross dresser was now getting surrounded by the same men he was flirting around with.

_“Oh! I love to go out fishing  
In a river or a creek,  
But I don't enjoy it half as much  
As dancin’ cheek to cheek!”_

Alastor’s grin turned upwards and without much thought he stood, gliding easily through abandoned tables and grabby men (thankfully he wasn’t their target). As he reached the cross dressing singer, Alastor could tell that the other was soon about to his composure, his face turning sour and angry. It was then that Alastor took the liberty of forcibly yanking the singer out of the prying hands of the other male, not caring if he hurt the singer in the process and ignoring the glares of the said grabby male.

The broadcaster quickly slipped into dancing with the singer, dipping the taller one with ease, the singer blinking his blue eyes in surprise as the anger that was there dissipated. But of course, the music was still playing and Alastor could tell that this slight mishap was not going to deter the other from finishing the song without a hiccup.

 _“Dance with me  
I want my arm about you  
The charm about you  
Will carry me through to Heaven.”_

Alastor smiled at the singer, knowing that not a single beat would be skipped from the other as the two commanded the dance floor then, the other males hesitatingly moving back to their tables or standing just at the edges of the floor. The singer, upon closer inspection, was truly something to behold. Though Alastor himself had never found any much fancy in others, he had to admit that the male before him was certainty on another level. He had this beauty that seemed ill fitting of a male, after all, a male should never be called beautiful only handsome, and he didn’t believe that it was the fact the other was dressed as a female either. No, this performer was indeed beautiful, regardless of gender but as a person. This person had a light about him that Alastor never had and it was truly from another world. The singer, smiled at him, eyes sparkling as he was seemingly enjoying having Alastor as a dance partner.

Besides, out of all of the men he had danced with, Alastor was by far the better of them all and far more experienced. 

_“I'm in Heaven  
An’ my heart beats so that I can hardly speak   
An’ I seem to find the happiness I seek  
When we're out together dancin’ cheek to cheek.”_

As he finished the last line the band continued playing a closing exit, though it became apparent they were only gauging it off their dancing as by this time everyone had taken their seats again, watching them now as they glided together in sync. It was something that Alastor hadn’t expected to happen on this night but he was enjoying himself, much to his own surprise. And as they danced he noticed that the feathering on the dress almost made his dance partner look like he had wings flowing behind him making him something like an angel in human form.

As the two naturally started to end their dance, the band assisted them; finally closing out the song as the shorter male once again dipped the taller one with ease. The singer, chuckled then, the smile bright and simply striking as Alastor stood the other back up. Applause sounded from the room but Alastor could care less about that as he tuned into what the singer before him was saying to him. “I have to say, babe, you’re by far the best dance partner I ever had. What’s your name?”

“Why, the name's Alastor, my dear!” He heard himself answer intently, sweeping his hand to the side in a mock bow towards the other.

The cross dresser giggled then, a hand coming up to his mouth. “Well, aren’t ya a gentleman?”

“Give it up for Miss Antonia, everyone!” The announcing called out from the stage, apparently at some point going back up. “Now, give her some encouragement so she’ll go right into her next number!”

The male chuckled and feigned being tired as the crowd cheered for more. “My word, everyone. Ya gotta give a girl a sec to breathe. This John here sure took my breath away!” There was some scattered laughter but Alastor could see some jealous glares in his direction. He remained still, his smile ever present on his face. “But fine! I’ll think of somethin’ for ya all!” As he turned back to the stage, the performer gave Alastor a small wink, climbing back up the steps.

Alastor took that moment to return to his table, minding the stares that followed him from some of the men. There he remained until the show was apparently over, the band playing music as couples took the dance floor. Alastor was just about to leave himself when he saw a white figure move towards him, it was none other than the singer coming from behind the scenes. “Ya mind if I steal ya away for a moment, hon?” The singer asked, his hands on the table as he leaned forward.

Alastor, not having much else to do, smiled and nodded. “Of course, dear.”

The singer’s smile grew and he straightened, gesturing for the one sitting to follow him. “Lets talk somewhere quieter an’ away from impendin’ danger.”

At that Alastor looked behind the other to see several of the men from earlier bee lining towards them. “Quite right, dear. After you.”

He quickly stood and followed the other to the stage door ducking away from danger and entering the back hallways of the building. They didn’t go far as the performer turned around, clasping his hands together before him. “I wanted to thank ya for what ya did earlier. Ya really saved my ass. That John is always so grabby an’ possessive.”

“That much was apparent.” Alastor commented in agreement. “Think nothing of it, Miss Antonia.”

“Oh, ya can call me Anthony.” The male supplied his real name then. “It’s not creative, I know, but this is only a means to get by an’ practice my actin’ so…”

Alastor’s head tilted to the side. “Acting? So you want to be an actor in the movies I take it?”

Anthony giggled nervously then, rubbing his upper arm. “Yeah, I know, me an’ everyone else. But I’ve done a couple background things already I just haven’t landed big yet. But it ain’t enough to pay the bills so I do this too.”

“This is quite the choice in a side job. If anyone found out you preformed here, and dressed as a woman at that, it would ruin you if you ever made it.”

“ _If_ I ever make it.” Anthony amended. With a heavy sigh, the blonde man looked down to the floor. “But don’t I know it? It ain’t even the worst of it, believe me. But this is better compared to anythin’ I would have done back home…”

At that moment the same announcer came up to them, his face looking panicked. “Anthony, that guy is being really bothersome again. Says he wants you to come with him tonight.”

Anthony groaned and rubbed the back of his neck. “After that display earlier? Hell, no.”

“But, Anthony, last time he—“

“I know… I know.” The performer dejectedly replied, his hand coming up to his cheek out of reflex to the memory. “I’ll go with him, but that John better fuckin’ pay up good.”

The announcer groaned in distress but nonetheless walked back in the direction he came from. Alastor felt the wheels turning in his head, inferring as much as he could into that conversation. He glanced at the singer, seeing his eyes shadowed with a hidden darkness and his hand still on his cheek. The next thing Alastor knew, words came out of his mouth before he could even think. “I’m sure you can make it big. You obviously have some talent and skill in the matter.”

Anthony’s face changed to one of shock, not expecting the compliment. “Oh, thanks. But I’ve tried everythin’ an’ nothin’ seems to work.”

“May I suggest something?”

“Sure, bud.”

“You have the looks, and the skill, no doubt about that, and though some studios are willing to pay to make potential stars better, times are hard and they’re not going to put too much effort in either when they already have a good handful of renowned stars. I would say work on that accent of yours. In short, make it go away. I’m sure that will help your prospects. Sure worked with me.”

At that the other laughed sharply. “Ya? Havin’ trouble with an accent? Ya speak so nicely an’ elegantly. Ya don’t even need to try.”

Alastor chuckled to himself, smirk growing on his face as he decided to reveal his true accent to this man… for some unforeseen reason. “Now tha’ is a shame, sha, ‘cause aft’r all, it ain’t my usual.”

“Holy shit.” The other responded, his mouth dropping at the Creole accent, Alastor gave another laugh at that expression. “Is that what ya truly sound like?”

“List’n ‘ere, I don’t talk much like ‘his so it ain’t wha’ I ‘truly sound ‘ike’.”

“Holy shit.” Anthony repeated, this time as he laughed. “Well, fuck, if ya can go from that to your refined shit then maybe I got a chance!”

“Maybe so.” Alastor agreed, switching back to his other accent as he much preferred this one to his original one. “But I believe I’m holding you up, so I’d best be going now. It was a pleasure to meet you, Anthony.”

“Sure, thanks for the advice.” Anthony sounded slowly, his mind clicking with an idea but first he was working out the details. As Alastor turned and began to walk away, Anthony came to the conclusion his idea was sound and called for the other male. “Hey, Alastor?” The radio host stopped and half turned to face the other. “How’s about we make a deal? If ya can help me break this accent I can pay ya, or maybe we can work out somethin’ like I clean your place or somethin’…”

Alastor blinked, his smile dropping slightly as he let the words sink into place. He wasn’t really wanting to become a vocal coach anytime soon. He was already busy with work and that didn’t necessarily sound like an entertaining prospect. And there was absolutely nothing he wanted from the other and it seemed that Anthony didn’t know what he could offer to him. “Don’t you have somebody else that can help you?”

Anthony shook his head. “I’m all alone here. My ma an’ sis are in New York but they can’t escape my pa.”

“Hmm…” Alastor sounded, that fact making things more interesting. On one hand, he figured perhaps he could eventually think of something that the other could give back in repayment for these lessons but on the other hand, now finding out he was by himself made his darker side reel with excitement. He was basically the perfect candidate to murder and eat seeing as besides this seedy club, there didn’t seem to be anyone to miss him when he died. At that thought his smile turned into a grin masking his dark intentions. “Fine, then. I’ll help you out!”

“Really? Thanks! I’ll have to think of somethin’—“

Alastor raised a hand to freeze the other’s words. “You needn’t do anything but just keep me company. I’m extremely bored in this town you see, so as long as you entertain me with conversation I should be sufficient.”

“First of all, this is Hollywood! There’s so much happenin’ all about, ya obviously haven’t done anythin’ interestin’ ‘sides this club an’ that’s only ‘cause I’m here!” At that the blonde male grinned cheekily, chuckling to himself. “Secondly, that hardly seems fair. I get to potentially make it on the pictures an’ all ya want is company?”

“I’m new here, transplanted due to work, so it’ll be nice to have some company as I get situated.” He offered coolly, not lying about his situation but keeping his intentions hidden.

“Ah, well, shit that’s why! Hell, if that’s all you’re gonna ask for then I’m game!” Anthony closed the space between them, extending a hand out to Alastor. “It’s a deal then?”

Alastor smiles at the extended hand before him, taking it firmly in his own. “It’s a deal.”

</|\> </|\> </|\>

Alastor was running through the checklist of things in his head. He had it all planned in his head, as always. Anthony would come over to his place for his “lesson” and he would lead him inside. He’s got his knives primed and sharpened in the kitchen so he would excuse himself to get them some drinks and then he would make the blow from behind, quick and swift and without much struggle. He had done this plenty of times before it was almost second nature to him now. Sometimes he would get his prey inebriated first, makes it easier to get the more difficult ones to do what he wants. But this time, since his prey was already walking into his trap willingly, he didn’t need to do that.

That time in the club they had discussed the details of their first lesson, Alastor excitedly anticipating his first kill in Hollywood like the madman that he is. His mind was already reeling with the possibilities of what he could make with Anthony, his freezer cleaned out and space made for the many cuts he would have. The serial killer glanced over at the clock, seeing that it was almost time for the prey to arrive. Grinning madly he prepared himself a bit more, setting out a clean set of gloves next to his knives and spraying a dash of cologne for that effect.

Right on cue, moments later, he heard a knock from his front door. He went over casually as if he wasn’t planning to commit murder within the next half hour. After all, he was starting to get hungry so he needed to finish this quick.

However, when he opened the door, he was surprised to see a large bag get shoved in his face, he flinching back from the attacking object. “Hiya, Alastor!” Anthony greeted, his smile large and his eyes bright. “I couldn’t come empty handed so I hope you’re hungry! An’ I hope you like _osso buco milianese_.” He said, the Italian accent coming out so easily.

Alastor, upon the mention of food, inhaled and smelled the food in the bag. Smelled like meat and wine and garlic. “Good evening, dear.” Alastor finally greeted, his mind starting back up again as Anthony lowered the bag from his face. With the bag down he could see what the other properly. His platinum blonde hair that scooped over one of his blue eyes, the faint freckles along the cheeks and nose, and that pale white skin. But what attracted the attention of him the most was what Anthony was wearing; a long sleeved off-white, ribbed knitted sweater and gray slacks. Off handedly, Alastor wondered why the other was wearing a sweater in the middle of summer. Despite it being dusk outside it was still hot in the California heat, even he was only wearing a short sleeves shirt at the moment. “How kind of you to bring dinner.”

“Yeah, well, I felt bad that ya are just askin’ for company so I cooked this up.” His eyes dropped to the bag he was holding. “I also made garlic bread too, to go along with it.”

“Ah, yes, well thank you. Please come in.”

Anthony nodded and entered the home of the radio host. “Where can I set this down?”

“The table’s right over here. Since you brought food, should we eat first before it goes cold?”

“Oh, a hundred percent. I’m starved!” Anthony replied, setting the bag on the dining room table as he pulled out a small pan of garlic bread, which was covered with foil and then a glass container with a lid. “Ah, good, it’s still warm.”

“I’ll get the plates… and something to drink.”

The other man smiled at him as Alastor turned to head to the kitchen, as he entered he faltered, his eyes glancing towards the set of knives he had on his counter. His hands twitched at his sides, his mind racing at the sudden introduction of Anthony bringing food. Food that smelled good. His stomach growled and Alastor shook his head, snapping himself back to reality as he went to the counter, quickly shoving the knives back in a drawer and grabbing a set of plates and utensils as well as a serving pair. Upon turning around he saw Anthony enter the kitchen, he hanging back at its entrance. “Did ya need any help? I got an extra set of free hands.”

Alastor, for once, was thankful he hid away his butchering knives. “Ah, sure. The glasses are up there and I believe I have a bottle of wine in the fridge that’s already opened.”

“Wonderful! I just _knew_ ya had booze. I woulda brought some but I used the last of my wine to cook this meal an’ I can’t spend my cash on that right now.”

A twang of an unknown kind of emotion hit inside Alastor’s chest. It almost hurt and it came upon without a warning. He took some steady breaths before heading back out to the dining table, swallowing thickly as he set the table quickly, Anthony behind him with the partially empty bottle of wine and two glasses. Anthony wordlessly set the glasses down and poured them the wine, setting the wine bottle down in the center. The two took their seats, Anthony grabbing the serving utensils to help scoop some of the meat and veggies from his dish onto their plates, giving Alastor his plate first before serving himself.

“Thank you.” Alastor said as he took the plate, watching as the other man served himself before picking up the pan of bread, holding it out in his direction. Grabbing a piece he muttered another thank you before Anthony took his own piece. Alastor looked down at the plate before him, marveling in how good it looked and smelled. The moment the other set the pan down Alastor went to dig into the food, only to be stopped by the quiet mutterings of the other, attracting his attention. He had his head lowered, his hands clasped together on the table.

“Dear Lord, thank ya so much for the meal we’re about to eat. Thank ya for givin’ me the means to at least do this much. Amen.” After the small prayer Anthony began to eat without so much as a glance up to Alastor.

The broadcaster took that as the moment to eat his own food, cutting a piece of the meat and bringing it up to his mouth. His eyes widened at the taste of the meat. “Veal?”

“Hm-hmm.” The other sounded, as his own mouth was full. He swallowed, sighing contently as he smiled. “Can’t make _osso_ _buco_ without it.”

“Isn’t it expensive?”

“Hm.” The other sounded, a small blush gracing his features. “That’s why I couldn’t afford to bring wine myself. Sorry.”

Alastor blinked, wondering why the other had just apologized. He felt his tongue sudden feel like it was swollen. “You needn’t apologize, dear. And you certainty didn’t need to go and do this.”

Anthony raised a hand, brushing off that last statement. “Like I said, I felt bad. Just shut up an’ eat my cookin’.”

At that the older man smiled and silently began to eat again, eventually taking a bite of the garlic bread. It tasted so much better than any other garlic bread he’s ever had before. “The bread it extremely delicious!”

“Thanks!” Anthony blushed. “I made it myself.”

The older man faltered again for the second time that night. “You _made it_?”

At that the younger one laughed. “What? Is that such a shocker? Are ya now gonna tell me that only women should do the cookin’ an’ bakin’ from scratch?”

“No, I… no.” Alastor stuttered.

“Good, ‘cause I was about to kill ya if ya said that. I’ve heard that enough in my life by my pa to hear it from ya too.” Anthony said with a smile, obviously not being serious about killing the other male.

Again, that feeling from the kitchen he had earlier returned and Alastor pushed it away as he continued to eat.

From that moment on the two started to talk while they ate, their conversations occasionally causing both of them to laugh. At first, their conversations were pretty normal, they talking about their lives before they came to Hollywood, Alastor covering a lot more of his life than he felt Anthony was doing, before it shifted to their aspirations on how Alastor always wanted to be in radio and Anthony always wanted to be a star in the picture shows. They started talking about their favorite movies, songs, and actors, finding that they both liked seeing the picture shows as a hobby, Anthony only wishing he could go more often.

As time passed, as time did go by quick, the two had not done a single lesson and the sun had long since set, the bottle of wine now almost all gone as the two continued to talk and laugh together. It was Anthony that first noticed the hour, cursing softly. “Shit, it’s late.” With a laugh he rubbed the back of his neck and added, “An’ we didn’t even do a single lesson. Whoops.”

Alastor chuckled. “Then I suppose we’ll have to try this again another time.”

“I guess so. Maybe I shouldn’t bring food next time, that seemed to have distracted us.”

Alastor thought about that for a moment before he finally spoke. “What about I’ll cook next time? And perhaps we should time ourselves so that we can actually get your first lesson in.”

Anthony giggled, giving him a shrug. “Sure, I guess. I just hope we don’t end up talkin’ all night again.”

Even if they did, Alastor thought, he hadn’t felt this comfortable in another person’s presence in a long time. He started to think maybe it would be fine if they never got to a lesson at all. “Since you cooked, I will do the washing up.” He said as he stood, starting to collect some of the dishes.

“Oh, no, ya don’t have to!” Anthony insisted, standing himself. “At least let me help ya, this is your home after all.”

“If you wish.” The two headed to the kitchen, setting all the dishes off the side of the sink.

Anthony rolled up his sleeves without much thought, reaching for the sink faucet when Alastor suddenly grabbed his wrist. Anthony jumped and glanced at Alastor, seeing that his eyes were pinpointed to his arms. Anthony followed his gaze and suddenly remembered the bruises and cigarette burns on his arms. “Shit.” The younger cursed as he tried to move to cover his arms back up.

“Anthony, what happened?” Alastor asked, his hand tightening on Anthony’s wrist.

“N-nothin’.” Alastor directed his gaze to the taller male, eyes glaring at him. It made the younger male flinch and with a strained smile he found himself telling Alastor the truth. “Ya remember that John from the club? The one that was really handsy?” Alastor nodded. “Yeah, well he did this that night. He wasn’t all too pleased I gave my attention to someone else. But I ain’t blamin’ ya!” He quickly added. “Bastard has always been like this so it’s not any different.”

Alastor exhaled heavily, angered that this talented person before him was injured in such a way. “Why do you go with him then?”

“Extra cash.” Anthony said without missing a beat. “Trust me, I ain’t too keen on it, after all sodomy is a sin in the eyes of God an’ I feel like no amount of prayin’ for forgiveness will ever save my soul.” A beat passed and Anthony offered a small smile to the other. “Ya don’t seem like the religious sort, I noticed ya didn’t say prayer before dinner, after all, but it’s important to me an', well, since I’m already damned for bein’ queer I might as well get paid for it.”

“And you just tell me this? What if I killed you for it?”

“Then ya woulnd’t have been at that club in the first place.” Anthony responds easily. “I don’t think any fag killer would go to a club _for_ fags.”

Alastor finally releases Anthony and he wordlessly goes to start to clean the dishes, Anthony following his lead and doing the same. “You do know that doing that, hell, even being in that club preforming, could kill your chances of being a star in the movies.” Alastor says, almost echoing what he said to Anthony the other night in the club when they met.

“I know, but it’s all I got at the moment, an’ like I said I mostly preform at the club for actin’ practice. It’s not at all my day job; I work as a waiter in a restaurant mostly. But the pay’s shit an’ folks just can’t pay well in tips most of the time.”

After a moment of silence, Alastor’s smile grew larger, more determined. “Then I guess I’ll just have to coach the hell out of that accent so you can make it big!”

At that Anthony laughed. “Suddenly determined, huh?”

Alastor didn’t respond, he himself not understanding how the night went so backwards and how he got to this point. But one thing was for sure is that he no longer saw Anthony as his prey. The man was an entertainment onto himself as for the first time in probably his whole life; Alastor saw the want to connect to another person as a friend. Besides, his instincts, which were really more animalistic to begin with, were telling him to keep Anthony close, and Alastor never betrays his instincts.

</|\> </|\> </|\>

After a couple months of the lessons, Anthony had managed to kick the accent behind. He was not quite at the level of Alastor quite yet, but it was enough that he was starting to go from just background roles in the films to being given one or two speaking lines, to being a minor character. In fact, a week ago he was given the opportunity to audition for his first ever major role after weeks of being a minor character in some studio’s films. The younger man was all nerves every day as he waited for that call either telling him he lost the part or had it. He continued his lessons with Alastor, but the older man could tell he was too distracted, usually cutting the lessons short to just talk and take the time to get to know each other better.

In all this time Alastor had grown to be too busy to commit his first kill in Hollywood, and maybe that was for the best, and it wasn’t like he _needed_ to kill, it was to alleviate his seemingly never ending boredom and his appetite. But Anthony was a fairly entertaining individual. It had become a tradition of sorts that after a lesson he would showcase a number he was practicing for the club, or running some lines with Alastor who had some talent of his own in delivering the lines. Though, as time went on, Anthony went less and less to the club and wasn’t doing his late night side job as much. This pleased Alastor more than he cared to admit. He himself was never one for sexual intercourse, he had tried it a couple times with men and women alike but it was always boring. It didn’t help that he didn’t like people touching him so in those close and more intimate moments he could never truly get past the touching. This didn’t bother him, in fact he more preferred it since now he didn’t have a normal human distraction to slow or weaken him and it left more time in his day to do with what he liked.

But in all fairness, lately due to his busy schedule, he had been taking the moment to relax at home between work and Anthony’s lessons. It was in one of these moments that a frantic knocking came upon his door. He wasn’t expecting anyone, today was not a day for Anthony to come over, and he certainty didn’t have any coworkers or other friends coming to visit. He waited for a moment, seeing if they would just leave when he heard a familiar voice from the other side of the door.

“Alastor! Hey, are ya in there?” It was Anthony.

Alastor stood then, going to the door as Anthony knocked on the door erratically. “Calm yourself, dear, I’m here.” He called to the other as he unlocked the door.

Upon opening it he was immediately latched onto by his unexpected visitor, arms wrapped around his neck, bodies pressed up close to one another. Alastor flinched at the contact, it being extremely unexpected but it was surprisingly not unpleasant.

What was even more surprising was the pair of lips that then crashed onto his own. Alastor felt his eyes widen and his body freeze like a deer in a vehicle’s headlights. As quickly as the kiss began it was over. “I got the part! I’m gonna be the star of a major picture!” Anthony cheered then, his grin stretching from ear to ear as he went in for another kiss, this one landing on his cheek. “You’re the best Al! I don’t think I woulda made it this far without ya! Thank ya, thank ya, _thank ya_!” Another kiss, this time back on the lips, lasting a couple seconds longer than the first before Anthony pulled away. They stood there, staring at each other before Anthony’s elated face dropped suddenly, his eyes widening as he realized what he just did. “Oh, God! Alastor, holy shit I’m so sorry!” Anthony yanked himself away, backing up into the hallway of the apartment building. Alastor had told Anthony just in passing that he didn’t really like people touching him unless he initiated and since then Anthony had been mindful of the contact except for this very moment and he basically jumped off the cliff with how overboard he went. “Please don’t kill me!”

Alastor, who was very dumbstruck at the overabundance of affection he had just received, smirked then. Anthony did not know how many times that plea was thrown in his direction with merit behind it. However, this time, there was and never will be a reason for those words to ever hold their meaning towards Alastor. The man was effectively won over, perhaps even at their first meeting. The older man reached out, yanking the flustered younger male into his apartment, the door slamming behind him as quickly as it was shut soon Anthony was pressed against it, the older male placing a kiss of his own onto the younger. Anthony released a sound of surprise, his hands up in the air in a defensive pose left over from his sudden realization of too much contact. Before the younger could react to the kiss, Alastor pulled back, the most truest, sweetest smile gracing the elder’s face. “Congratulations, dear. You definitely deserve it.”

“Hm-hmm.” Anthony sounded; blush heavy on his face, his brain fried and his body frozen, shivers running up and down his arms and spine.

Alastor tilted his head to the side, his smile turning into a grin. “You were so affectionate before. Tell me, cat got your tongue?”

“Hm-hmm.” The younger sounded off again, this time with a nod or two.

Alastor chuckled; stepping back to give the younger a bit more room to collect himself as he himself gave some thought to this scenario. This was probably the first time he ever _wanted_ to initiate a kiss and it didn’t take too long for that thought to pass his mind that he then proceeded with it. Anthony was a being far different than anyone else he’s ever met with this capability to _change_ him in ways he never thought possible. He had thought that he was broken and empty on the inside, never feeling the urge or the need to fall in love and to move forward with a person in his life. But now it was different. If he had any future to share with another person he wanted it to be with Anthony. This person was like an angel on Earth to him, a shining light amidst the darkness of his own life.

Anthony swallowed thickly, his eyes darting down to meet Alastor’s. “So, uh… ya ain’t mad that I-I k-kissed ya?”

“Does it seem like I’m mad?”

“N-No…”

“Then why ask?”

“I just… wanted to make sure…” Alastor hummed, a simple sound in itself but it resonated in Anthony at this moment in time. He swallowed again, his heart hammering so hard he thought that perhaps the other might be able to hear. “So, uh… c-can we do that again?”

Alastor chuckled as he stepped forward, their bodies closer and their breaths mingling together. “Gladly, darling.”

And with that the two males closed the remaining space together, lips meeting lips, both of them smiling into the kiss.

</|\> </|\> </|\>

“It’s a shame ya can’t come to the premiere with me.” Anthony said as he looked himself over in the mirror one last time. He had styled his hair back to keep it out of his face and was wearing a new black, tailored suit.

“Yes, well, I’m afraid that wouldn’t be possible in this day and age. And besides,” Alastor said as he approached his love, reaching out to adjust the tie that had somehow gone askew, “I have to leave town today to head back to New Orleans so I wouldn’t have been able to go anyway.”

“Ugh, this just sucks. Everyone else will be bringin’ their partners an’ I’m stuck goin’ with the director’s secretary.”

“At least she’s being kind enough to go with you and cover for you.” She was the only one that knew of Anthony’s _affliction_ to love people of the same sex but instead of reporting it she supported Anthony and his boyfriend, choosing to go with him to the premiere so that he wouldn’t go alone.

“True.” Anthony responded, but he still wanted to go with Alastor. He wanted to be able to hold his hand, Alastor permitting of course, and watch his first movie as the lead together. But it would have to wait until Alastor returns from New Orleans, Alastor having promised he would not see the movie there until he comes back. “Well, anyways, ya have a safe trip, an’ call me when you get back home.”

“I will, darling.” Alastor responds, raising a hand to kiss the back of it gently. “You have fun tonight and get home safely yourself.”

Anthony giggled and kissed Alastor on the cheek before leaving the apartment. He had basically moved in after their kiss in his home. Though Anthony stayed at his own place from time to time, Alastor truly didn’t mind Anthony staying with him. Anthony himself was being very considerate of Alastor’s feelings towards sex and during these months during the movie being filmed they haven’t had sex yet. They shared the bed, sure, and Alastor allowed the occasional cuddling at night. Alastor appreciated this, much more than Anthony might ever know. He had been trying to work himself up to finally _sleep_ with Anthony but it was proving a bit difficult, his past experiences causing a sort of fear that perhaps he wouldn’t enjoy it with Anthony just like he didn’t enjoy the others. But still, he wanted to try, if not for his sake than for Anthony who enjoyed sex; when he wasn’t struggling with the repercussions of his faith.

The elder made a promise to himself that once he came back from reporting in New Orleans for a bit he would make an honest attempt with Anthony. But before any of that he had to get there first and though his bags and everything was set, Alastor had one thing to do before he could leave. For weeks he had been stalking the man who had hurt Anthony in the past. His anger and possession of _his_ boyfriend increased as Anthony stopped going to the club all together and Anthony was starting to receive threats at his house in letters, another reason as to why he was staying with Alastor. His "research" had concluded that this man was alone in the world and thus Alastor took it upon himself to eradicate the nuisance tonight before he left. Though he wouldn’t have time to cut up the man for food, h figured it would be easier not to anyway to keep Anthony from either finding out that he was a killer or from accidentally eating another human.

So, Alastor was now standing outside this man’s home, waiting for him to leave to go to the club. He had his car and his bags nearby, ready to go dump a body before going to the airport later tonight. And right on time the man came out, heading towards the club without even having an indication that tonight would be his last night on Earth. Alastor followed behind the man, eyes dark and deadly as he palmed the knife in his coat pocket. He had mapped out the route this guy took every time, knowing full well that there was an alley he walked by not far from his home that was long and dark; just the perfect spot to commit murder. It was as this man passed the alley, Alastor lunged forward, simultaneously pulling the man backwards into the alley and plunging the knife into the back of his neck, twisting it as he dragged him back further into darkness. The prey didn’t even have time time to scream nor struggle as he started to choke on his own blood, the sound of the blood gurgling in the man’s throat bringing back a familiar feeling back to the serial killer.

Alastor was careful to not have any blood drip onto him as it spilled out of the neck, Alastor humming to himself as the man quickly died due to blood loss. Once all life had left his target, he carefully hid him behind some trash cans, heading back to his car in a calm manner. Once he pulled up and brought the man into his trunk, which he had laid a tarp down for cleanliness. He drove outside of Hollywood, to a small bog area that he found by happenstance one day before he met Anthony. It reminded him a little bit of home, minus the lack of alligators, but he would dump the body there, wrapped in the tarp, digging a deep enough grave by the water’s edge to cover the body. Before filling the grave up, Alastor threw his gloves and the knife in there, filling up the grave ungloved with the shovel.

“My apologies,” Alastor spoke as he finished, cracking his neck as he did so, “but since I’m heading out of town I couldn’t leave you around with _mon ange_.” He then sighs in satisfaction as he double checked his person, rinsed off the shovel in the bog’s water, and went back to his car, throwing the shovel in the trunk.

After all, there was no time to dilly dally as there was still a flight to catch and he had to begin to prepare for his work in New Orleans. He was sure the city missed its serial killer by now and he’s missed the taste of human flesh. Now was the best time as any to _really_ get down to business.

</|\> </|\> </|\>

When Alastor returned home from a very successful trip (and hunt) in New Orleans, he was not surprised to smell the familiar scent of homemade Italian food in his apartment, the smell of freshly baked bread reaching his nose along with the smell of meat and sauces. Upon hearing the front door close, Anthony poked his head out from the kitchen, gazing down the hallway to meet his eyes with Alastor’s. “Welcome home, babe.” Anthony called out to him, glancing back at the kitchen quickly before meeting Alastor halfway, Alastor marveling at the pink apron the other man was wearing in all its frills. Anthony hesitated slightly before reaching outwards and hugging Alastor.

The older man smiled at that. Though he was certain that Anthony could have just thrown himself into his arms and he wouldn’t have minded, he appreciated that at least Anthony questioned Alastor’s own level of acceptance of touching. It made him feel appreciated by the younger male, enough for him to worry about what was too much or not. “I’m home, darling.” He said with a smile, feeling the butterflies in his stomach for more than one reason.

“I’m almost done cookin’ so if ya wanna wash up first, I can set the table.” Anthony said as he pulled away, heading back to the kitchen silently.

Alastor set his bags down, double-checking the door was locked before heading into the kitchen himself, watching for a moment at the doorway as Anthony checked the food on the stove. The elder man inhaled sharply, feeling himself move forward as he wrapped his arms around Anthony’s waist, pulling the man back with a small squeak of surprise from the other. Though, yes, Anthony was taller and more well-built compared to his average, skinny self, for some reason whenever he held the younger in his arms, he felt taller and stronger, like he could take on the world and win. Anthony was talking to him then, but he couldn’t hear any of the words as both the smells from the cooking and Anthony’s body wash mixed in his nose. He licked his chapped lips and brought them to the base of Anthony’s neck, biting down gently, not enough to draw any blood from his love. Alastor felt a flinch and heard another squeak. “A-Al…?” Anthony stuttered, subconsciously pressing back against the elder male as his hands stilled from their cooking.

“We can come back to this later.” Alastor coolly said, breaking one of his hands away to turn off the stove, his eyes glancing to make sure the oven wasn’t on and it wasn’t, looks like whatever baking was finished earlier. After being content that the apartment wasn’t going to burn he pulled Anthony back, hearing the spoon that was in his hand fall to the ground.

“Al?” Anthony asked, confused as to the different Alastor that stood before him. They have been dating for a while but due to his aversion to touch and near disgust for sex they haven’t done much more than cuddling, kissing and hugs. Even as he was being lead to his (their?) room his mind was racing with possibilities but his heart was hammering with excitement all the same.

After all, he himself was normal. He enjoyed sex as much as the next guy, unless that guy was Alastor of course.

The next thing the taller male knew was that he was tossed onto the bed and before he could sneeze Alastor was above him, both hands on either side of him. “A-Al? I… what’re ya…?”

“I wanna do som’thin’ for ya, cher.” Alastor spoke, his Creole accent coming out as he knew that the accent did something for Anthony.

Visibly on cue, Anthony shuddered, groaning softly. “Damn ya an’ that damned accent. Ya did that on purpose!”

“Now, cher, why e’vr wouldya say tha’ for?” Alastor said with a smirk, one hand reaching for the frills of the apron.

“’Sides…!” Anthony said quickly and loudly, the blush increasing as Alastor’s hand on his apron moved from there to his neck, dragging the hand down and over the shoulder. “Ya already gave me enough! Ya don’t need to push yourself an’—“

“So ya don’t wanna?” Alastor asked, head tilting and his smirk growing more but his hand didn’t stop as it moved down the other’s arm, his hand lacing with Anthony’s as he reached it.

“N-No I—I mean, yes, but I don’t wanna force ya or make it seem ya have to…”

Alastor shook his head. “Darlin’, ya have been nothin’ but considerate tow’rds me. I wanna give ya this too.” He leaned down, his head between the crook of Anthony’s neck and shoulder. “But only if ya really wanna.” He added, making Anthony have to say it aloud.

A very flustered Anthony exhaled then, eyes rolling up as a hand reached to collect some of his own shirt at his chest, feeling the familiar shape of his necklace under the cloth. “Oh, for God’s sake!” Anthony nearly cursed, swallowing thickly. “If ya leave me now in this state I’ll kill ya.”

The older man laughs, taking that as his cue to go one. “Sure, cher,” he says, placing a kiss at the base of the neck which sends a shiver down Anthony’s spine, “what’ver ya say, cher.”

Within moments hands were moving everywhere, save for one moment when Alastor stopped Anthony from his hands heading down to Alastor’s pants, he still being uncomfortable with touch _down there_. Besides that one moment, Anthony being more cautious of that after apologizing (Alastor claiming he didn’t have to), they continued onward. Alastor had helped Anthony out of all of clothing, including the pretty little apron that Alastor thought matched his lover so much. Alastor had removed his own vest and shirt, unbuttoning his pants but keeping them on as he continued his administrations to Anthony. Anthony prepped himself at the behest of Alastor, one hand down at his lower body while the other clasped tightly at the necklace around his neck. Alastor eyed that hand carefully, a bit of anger boiling up in him, for some reason, as he yanked that hand off the piece of jewelry, revealing a plain and simple golden cross, Alastor’s hand tightly woven in that offending hand. Alastor himself wasn’t very religious, the only force he believed in was the power behind the voodoo magic he occasionally practiced, seeing as _that_ was something real. He didn’t mind that Anthony was religious himself, but he didn’t want the other to be focused on such trivial things (to him) when he was trying to make love with his boyfriend.

Anthony allowed his hand to be taken away, eyes half lidded as he looked into Alastor’s dark eyes. He swallowed thickly, removing his fingers from himself when he felt stretched out enough. He nodded to his boyfriend above him, sighing heavily. “O-Okay, babe… just-just be careful, ‘kay? It’s been a while…”

Alastor felt pride at that statement. He had pulled Anthony away from having to whore himself away to make money. _He_ had taught Anthony how to cover up his accent so that he could succeed in the film industry. _He_ had made him into a growing star in Hollywood that now didn’t worry about when his next meal was coming in. _He_ had saved Anthony from having to keep preforming in that club with those men eyeing him all night like meat. And now here was Anthony, below him, _his_ and only _his_ and to Alastor’s overwhelming realization he _didn’t_ hate having sex with Anthony. He was still uncomfortable, sure, but he was enjoying watching the squirming Anthony below him, hearing him mewl and arch below him and even now as he pushed himself into his lover, he didn’t hate it. He watched as Anthony’s head tilted back, moans breaking out of his mouth as the hand he was holding clenched tighter and the other hand grasped the sheet of the bed.

Yes, Anthony was his now and if he could help it, Anthony would be his forever. He would keep his secret of being a serial killer and a cannibal hidden from him, as to not scare him away or have him run for the hills. He will continue to help Anthony succeed so that he can stand on his own two feet but still appreciate him as more than just a sex tool. He will protect Anthony from men like the one at the club. He, if necessary, will _kill_ more for Anthony. Nothing, or no one, will get in his way of _his_ Anthony.

As Alastor finished inside Anthony, both of them panting heavily, he pulled himself out and laid on the bed next to Anthony, their hands still clasped together as Anthony raised his free hand and fanned himself. “Holy Jesus Christ, Alastor…” Anthony muttered, swallowing thickly. “For someone who hates touch… ya are actually pretty good.”

Alastor chuckles, turning onto his side as Anthony mimics him, the two looking at each other with flushed faces. “Thank you, darling.” Alastor spoke then, returning back to his radio voice. “But you do know that just because I don’t particularly care about sex doesn’t mean I haven’t partaken in it before.”

“Well, _now_ I can tell!” Anthony responds, chucking embarrassedly. “I didn’t know ya could be like that in bed.”

“Hmm.” Alastor hummed, laying there in silence with his lover before he felt his stomach begin to rumble in hunger, after all, the scent of Anthony’s cooking was still lingering in the house, it just mixed in with the scent of sex now. Sitting up partially to place a chaste kiss on Anthony’s forehead, he stood, buttoning his pants back up. “I’m going to go check on the food, see if it needs to be warmed up. You can wash up first, darling.”

“Oh, I can go—“

“Darling.” Alastor said simply, his smile warm. “You already did the cooking, I can do this much.” With that the elder left the room after picking up his white shirt from the ground, putting it on as he left the room.

Anthony sighed heavily as he left, plopping onto his back, his arms raised above him. After a couple seconds he sat up and went to the bathroom, his hand back to clutching the cross around his neck. Closing the door he locked himself into the bathroom and fell onto his knees, now both hands clutching the necklace. “Dear Lord, please forgive my sodomy with the man I love.” He began to pray, his breathing heavily as his hands shook. He had done this prayer many times before, usually before and after he had sex with other men, but all the other times before were for money. This was the first time he had the activity with someone he loved so his prayer was amended. “Forgive my trespasses for the way that I am. I don’t know why I’m like this but I… I love him. I love him _so_ much. If I’m damned to Hell for this…” He couldn’t finish that sentence and instead released a sigh, bowing his head deeper. “Forgive me. Please forgive me.” He said instead, giving he cross a kiss before standing up, grabbing a wash cloth from the bath and cleaning off his body.

He would bathe fully before bed but he couldn’t keep Alastor waiting. And despite his fervent prayer, he wondered if perhaps he could get Alastor to go for a round two.

</|\> </|\> </|\>

Their relationship continued smoothly over the next couple years with the only major changes being that Anthony officially moved in with Alastor and Anthony becoming a sensation in the movie world. It was getting difficult to keep their relationship hidden as many were wondering who Anthony held above all else in his heart. Anthony, ever being the good actor, brushed off all those questions, saying that he was only focusing on his dream at the moment. Alastor would hold off from committing any murders in Hollywood being as it was far too close to Anthony for comfort. Instead, every time he returned to New Orleans, or traveled somewhere else new for an extended period of time he would get his itch fixed then. A part of him felt dirty for even still going on killing, especially when he had not told Anthony of who he really was or _what_ he was. No, he couldn’t risk Anthony finding out, there were now too many factors that could get ruined by him finding out.

And above all else he was going to protect his life with Anthony. This was far more important to him now than anything else in the world; his job, money, even the roof over their heads. If the market crashed again, staring the Depression over from the beginning and they were left with nothing, as long as he had Anthony by his side he could do anything. It was alarming how much this man had changed his life is such a short time but he didn’t hate it. He cherished it like nothing else in the world. It was almost frightening to Alastor how much regard he held in this relationship to a man he at first wanted to kill. He would have never believed in a million years that he would come to love another as he did to Anthony. They are exact opposites, from two different backgrounds, different pasts and experiences and yet here they were, practically married and probably would be if it weren’t illegal nor dangerous for them to do so.

Anthony on the other hand couldn’t be happier. He had his career, which was blossoming and growing more and more every year, he had his man whom was so kind, a total gentleman and was so appreciative of who he is a person, fag-who-wants-to-dress-as-a-woman and all. Though, he would imagine that in retrospect that would make Alastor a fag too but he couldn’t think to call his lover that. Plus the other had experience with women before whereas Anthony did not so he was less “dandy” than him. The only thing that would really make it complete was perhaps an actual home (if they could afford it, even on his new salary times were still hard after all) and perhaps children. The latter, he knew, was basically impossible. He couldn’t bare children himself and it’s not like any agency would let a single man, let alone two men, adopt. And to boot he didn’t know if Alastor even _wanted_ kids. 

Regardless, Anthony was happy. The only thing that he wished for was for Alastor to be back home. He had gone back to New Orleans to work for a couple weeks at his old station as per his contract. These times when he was gone was always hard for him. He would tell himself he was a grown ass man who could wait patiently for the other to come back but he found it extremely boring at home alone. He could understand why Alastor always told him that he was entertaining or that he was bored without him. But that was going to change tonight since Alastor was coming back and Anthony just couldn’t wait a moment more.

He was currently out getting a couple ingredients that he forgot earlier to make dinner tonight. He was going to make the _osso buco milianese_ again as he was feeling a bit reminiscent of their first dinner they had together. Anthony giggled to himself as he walked down the street. He had decided to walk since it was good exercise and the store wasn’t too far away from the apartment. He pulled his favorite jacket in closer; it was a gift from Alastor for his most recent birthday. It was gray tweed on the outside but it was lined on the inside with pink linen. He smiled lovingly as he recalled the memory, so lost in it that he didn’t realize he was being trailed by three men. When he did finally notice it was too late as he was manhandled into a side corridor. He yelled out as he was pulled in, only to be hit in the face with a baseball bat, effectively silencing him as he fell to the floor.

He spit out the blood that pooled in his mouth, glancing up at the three strangers as he slowly began to stand. “What the hell?” Anthony said as he glared at them. “Ya just can’t hit me—“

Another swing of the bat to the face caused him to twist around, falling back on ground roughly. “Shut it, _fag_!” One man scolded him, causing Anthony’s eyes to widen. He whipped his head around, his eyes in both fear and confusion as he couldn’t understand how these complete strangers knew what he was. He had been so careful about it, hiding everything as well as he could.

Anthony turned his surprise into anger as he tried to act it off. “That’s mighty rude calling me that.” He said using he accent that Alastor had taught him to get his first starring role, a nice refined, almost British accent that Alastor knew Hollywood was looking for. “Don’t you know who I am? I—“

This time it wasn’t a bat but a swift kick to the stomach which interrupted him and Anthony grunted, backing away as soon the other two men lashed out on him, one holding him from behind as the other punched him repeatedly on the face, stomach and chest. “Yeah, I know who’re you are.” The first man spoke again as he played lazily with the bat that had a couple splatters of blood on it. “And I find it disgusting that a studio company would even put you up on the screens.” He spits his disgusts out onto a wall, walking over as the man that was punching him stops to let him stand in front. Anthony’s chest heaves as he tries to breath, he just knowing that the bruises are already starting to form on his body. He couldn’t speak at the man before him kept berating him. “Stupid Nancy boy. You didn’t think that someone wouldn’t find out? An’ you used to whore out like the _bardash_ you are.”

Anthony looked up at the word, that was of Italian origin. He stares into the eyes of the man with the bat before him, his heart drops and for a moment he feels like he’s not breathing at all. “Pa sent ya, didn’t he…?”

The man before him scoffs. “What, Anthony? You make it big and you don’t think the boss wouldn’t come and send some boys out here? You take his money, run, and become a fag out here. ‘Course the boss wants you dead, what a disgrace.”

“Fuck off.” Anthony responds, spitting his blood out onto the man’s shoes. “An’ for your information, I didn’t _become_ a fag out here, I've always liked dick.”

**_Twack!_ **

Anthony screamed as the bat made contact between his legs. This attracted the attention of a couple that was passing by. “Hey, you guys stop that!” The male of the two yelled out. The man that was punching Anthony earlier responded by pulling out a gun from behind, shooting it in the sky twice, causing the man to curse and the woman to scream as they bolted.

“Shit, now we ain’t got that much time left.” The first man cursed as the man holding Anthony suddenly shoved him roughly against the floor, Anthony taking the opportunity to grab onto his gentiles, wincing and breathing out in pain. “Let’s just finish this off quick before the cops are alerted.” He said as soon all three of them were beating Anthony with kicks to the face and stomach as the bat fell down on the legs and back, audible cracks of bones and ribs breaking reaching Anthony’s ears.

At this point he stopped struggling, stopped crying out, as he clenched his jaw, his hands pulling up from between his legs to make an attempt to cover his head. After what felt like years the sound of police sirens were echoing from down the street. With a couple curses and much heavier, well placed kicks and swings, the three men bolted, leaving Anthony crumpled in the corridor, blood surrounding him as he wheezed painfully. He struggled to sit up, inching back to lean on the wall as the sirens grew louder and louder. He reached down into his shirt, pulling out the chain with the cross and yanking it off his neck, holding the cross in a bruised hand.

Looking down at it, Anthony’s vision began to fade, as his other hand reached for his ribs, feeling the ones that were broken. With a wince and another wheeze, he brought the cross up to his forehead, eyes shutting in pain and in a broken prayer. “Dear God… please… let me redeem my soul at Your gates…” With a thick swallow he pulled the cross away, his eyes opening as the police gathered at the opening of the corridor, surrounding him in seconds. Anthony was sure they were talking to him, they must have been, but he could no longer hear them as he zeroed in on the cross. “I’m sorry, Al…” He whispered as tears fell from his face, his heart aching at the prospect of him not being home to greet Alastor as he has always done before. “I won't be home tonight, love… so sorry...”

His hand closed tightly around the cross and in seconds it fell onto the ground lifeless and still.

</|\> </|\> </|\>

Alastor unlocked the door to his home, smile much wider than normal as he called out into the apartment. “Darling, I’m home!” He locks the door behind him, leaving the bags in the entry as he sniffed the air.

Nothing.

Alastor blinked. He stood there, in silence, and in darkness, he realized as his head turned to the kitchen. “Darling?” He called out, the ominous feeling of dread, something he’s never felt before, overcomes him. He walks briskly to the kitchen, seeing it empty, before heading down to their room. Also empty. “Anthony?” He tried again as he went to the bathroom, then back out into the dining space.

He was alone.

Why was he alone?

Instinct was telling him to turn on the radio and so he ran to it, turning the knob with such vigor he almost broke it. Finding the local news, from his own station ironically, he heard the words that made him feel physically sick.

“ _Earlier tonight police found rising star Anthony Ragno murdered in a corridor in Hollywood. His body was severely beaten and witnesses say that there were three men involved. At least one having a gun and another with a bat. Law enforcement are on the lookout for three suspicious individuals who fled the scene before they arrived—“_

Alastor’s hands twitched as he leaned on the counter of the bar the radio sat on, his head hanging above the device. They were shaking as the words drifted off; his body was ridged and unmoving. His eyes were wide, the pupils were dilated, his mouth in a cringe worthy grin as his hands turned into fists, his nails digging into his palms. Without warning he growled and swept the radio off the bar, it shattering as it fell on the floor. His body trembled with anger, despair and the utter thirst for blood and vengeance. Never in his life had he wanted to _murder_ as much as he had just now. Without another warning he rushed back into the bedroom, searching the room for something of Anthony; _anything_ of Anthony that he loved. He was looking for the jacket he gave him but couldn’t find it, immediately thinking that Anthony must have been wearing it today, the thought adding another layer to his emotions. Eventually he found, in Anthony’s bedside drawer, his personal Bible, the leather on the outside worn clear of its color and several pages marked with plenty of cloth strips, no doubt the pages he referenced a lot whenever he felt that he sinned.

Especially whenever they had sex and Anthony went to pray in the bathroom when he thought Alastor wasn’t noticing.

A crazed, broken laugh came from Alastor as tears finally fell from his eyes, one hand holding his grinning face as he thought of the irony of what he was going to do with this book. He laughed for minutes, his psyche all but gone as he suddenly inhaled sharply, halting his laughter before tuning on his heels and heading back to the dining room, overturning the offending table and chairs to clear a spot on the floor. In a usual sense, he would kill a person or a deer and do this but there was no time nor did he really care about what happened to him at the moment. So, dipping into the kitchen to grab his very well hidden butcher knife and a bowl he went back out into the dining room, placing the Bible off to the side. He shucked off his vest and shirt, tossing them off to the side as he began to cut on his arms first, placing the bowl under where the blood was streaming from to catch it. He did this multiple times all over his body, getting as much blood as he could from himself, his world starting to spin from the blood loss.

Eventually, once he was satisfied and his body was covered in scars and cuts, he began to trace out a summoning circle on the floor with his hands, tracing the symbols into the floor that he was so familiar with. Once he was done he laughed again, the same broken, crying laughter from before as he placed Anthony’s Bible in the middle of the summoning circle, placing his hands on one end of the circle as he chanted in Creole French.

Green light filled the room as it came up from the circle, shadows of ancient voodoo magic stretching up into the walls. Alastor went straight to the point. “Y’all are gonna help me find Anthony’s kill’rs.” He commanded, accent thick in the haze of everything. “Ya can have the souls of his murderers once I’m done wit ‘em. An’ the bodies too if ya want, drag ‘em into Hell for all I care.”

The shadows screeched in agreement and in excitement as they went to the Bible, sniffing the book and reading the energy off of it before scattering to the winds. Once they were gone Alastor held his position, seeing as he couldn’t move until they came back anyway, as another fit of laughter began to bubble up. He had, since he started the chant, stopped crying, but as the laughter stirred from sporadic and quiet, to loud and crazed once more the tears came back out again, shaking his body with the combination of sobs and laughter.

Suddenly the different, and new, set of keys in his pockets felt much heavier, causing the man to stop his crying and laughter all together and the frown returned to his face. He wanted to remove the keys from his pocket but couldn’t move his hands off the circle, the weight of them a reminder of what he had hoped for. These keys were to be of a new chapter, it was meant to be their new home, a single family house, located in the middle of his radio station and Anthony’s film studios. He had finally decided to destroy his home in New Orleans, making it look like an accidental fire to get the insurance money. Though it wasn't much, it was just enough to add with what he had saved up to put a sizable down payment on this house. His head hung low, his chin colliding with his bare chest as fresh tears pooled behind his eyes, he closing them softly, the tears slipping loose once more. The shadows returned with excited screeches and thrills suddenly, making his hands flinch as he remained in his position.

They found them.

And they weren’t too far away.

A wide, psychotic grin creaked back onto his face, tears gone and his hand curled into the wooden floors, nails scratching at the wood. Alastor looked up at the shadows waiting in anticipation, his own body shaking with murderous intent. He’s going to kill those motherfuckers that took his Anthony away from him…

Even if it kills him.

</|\> </|\> </|\>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whistles. First of all, I don’t know which Anthony had it worst, the one who never got to have his dreams realized and still died (original), or the one that found love with Alastor and had his dream but still died, and this time by the orders of his father. (In the original version of this universe his family never knew where he was since he never got to be famous so it wasn’t by the orders of his father but by the fact Anthony was still secretly working at that club.)
> 
> Secondly, Alastor is straight up going to rip those guys to shreds. 
> 
> Personally, there were 2 moments where I talked to Alastor/Angel:  
> 1: “No, Alastor you can’t kill him (Anthony)! You LOVE HIM!”  
> 2: “Oh, Anthony, dear. You’re hurting yourself with being too caught up in your faith. Relax and just let yourself be loved.” 
> 
> Again, I suck in writing the Creole accent, kill me now. Chapter 2 will pick up after Anthony’s death and then continue on the universe kind of like how this series started so there will be a lot of similarities (but lots of changes too, after all this is a different version). 
> 
> Song Used: “Cheek to Cheek” by Fred Astaire, from the movie “Top Hat” (1935).  
> Look at this video for the inspiration of the dress from the movie that Anthony wore and that Alastor mentioned in the chapter:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ILxo-TUkzOQ&t=85s
> 
> Chapter Title song inspiration:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aVl3nCmxX1s
> 
> Side note: I was recently listening to “Addict” by Silvia Hound Ft. Michael Kovach and Chi-Chi on YouTube (on repeat) and is it just me or does that song fit the mirroring of the original/true Angel Dust (VivziePop’s) and Angel!Anthony (he would be Chi-Chi’s part of the song). Is it just me? And I thinking too much about this? Short answer yes, 100%.


	2. An Angel and a Demon Meet in Hell, Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like previously stated in my ending notes in chapter 1, this will pick up after Anthony’s death. This will be another, very (very) long chapter, with moments that are mirrored from previous parts in this series, mostly from Part 1 and Part 4 so for those who have read the whole series, there will be some familiar/déjà vu moments but I promise that each interaction will be different but will have elements of the originals. 
> 
> Without further ado, please enjoy this chapter!

</|\> </|\> </|\>

Blue eyes snapped open as Anthony inhaled inwards sharply, his hands flying to his ribs and chest. His breaths came out heavy and panicked, his eyes wide as he took in his surroundings. Everything was white and flat, a big flat empty space that seemed like it spread endlessly in all directions. Glancing down at himself he noticed that he was no longer wearing his favorite jacket but in fact was wearing a plain white robe gown, with long sleeves and the shift of the garment coming down to mid calf. It looked just like a choir robe that he saw the people in his church back in New York wear when his mother took him and his twin sister to church. He then faintly realized that his hands were empty too, no more cross in his hands and to add onto that, there was no more pain.

Anywhere.

He felt so light and clear. It was hard to describe but he really did feel as if he were floating on a cloud. He was still trying to figure out where he was when a kind, yet powerful woman’s voice called out to him from behind him, which was strange because there was no one with him. Anthony turned his body on the ground to face the source of the sound, blinking in astonishment at what he saw. There before him, where there was nothing there before, was a set of large doors. There were white stone pillars on either side of it, with two golden pots of white flames atop them. The doors themselves were white marble with golden veins with extremely ornate gold metal on top of it. The metal work stemmed from a center circle piece, a symbol of fire with nine swords coming out from it in a circle. From there vines of leaves and flower motifs reached out to the edges of the rectangular doors, where pairs of wings stamped around the edges in their own separated border.

But what was the most astonishing was the literal angel that stood before it. She probably the most beautiful woman he ever saw. She had dark, golden bronze skin, though most of her body was covered in a white floor length dress that was a-line in shape, it had a straight neckline along her chest and though it was strapless, there were sleeves that went down to her wrists, fabric coming up around her middle fingers. The dress itself was pure white in color, save for the golden hems around the bottom of the dress and the two drapes that came across the front of the skirt and some lace adornments on the bodice. Her black hair was piled atop her head, a white band coming up from her head and wrapping around her hair at its base, golden vines braided into her hair. Her pure white wings were extended as she brought them in closer to her, tucking the wings behind her back as she approached him. As she stood before him, Anthony still dumbstruck at meeting an angel, the weight of the fact that he was most likely dead sinking in, she curtsied to him, which felt strange considering _he_ should be the one bowing to _her_. “Greetings, Anthony. My name is Pravuil, Archangel and Scribe to God. I am also the one currently on Gatekeeper duty. It is my pleasure to meet you, child of God.”

“Uh-huh.” Anthony sounded dumbly as soon she extended a hand to him. He wordlessly placed his hand in her own, feeling her strength as she pulled him up to his feet, releasing his hand as he stood, noticing that her eyes were like the color of amber or honey. “Nice to meet ya, Pravuil… I, uh, read about ya in the Bible.” She smiles fondly at that but says nothing on it. “So, uh, I’m guessin’ I’m dead, then?”

“Correct.”

“So… time to get judged?”

“You already have been.”

“Say what now?” Anthony asks then, utterly confused as he’s always read that the Gatekeeper judges the souls of the departed, either allowing them into Heaven or damning them to Hell, which he guesses he’ll go to the latter.

Her face remains neutral as she elaborates. “In fact, you have been judged by God Themselves, something that does not usually occur.”

“Say what now?” He repeats, his heart skipping a beat at the statement. To be judged by God Himself. Wait. That wasn’t the pronoun she used was it? _Themselves_.

With a flick of her left wrist, a golden leather bound book appears, it was relatively thin. Anthony guessed it probably only had about 100 or so pages in it, maybe less. As she goes to read it he sees very clearly in white bold letters his name on the front cover, followed underneath by his birthday and his death day. He eyes the letters on the book until Pravuil begins to speak again. “It seems that you have done your fair share of sinning, mostly sodomy, some blaspheme but God no longer really bats an Eye to that considering it is just turn-of-phrases now.” She states off handedly, turning the pages. “But it also says here that you have prayed after each sin casted, sometimes even before. Your devotion must have caught God’s Eye and They allowed these transgressions and forgave them.”

Anthony felt his breath leave his body in relief. So as it turns out all those times he beat himself up paid off. Offhandedly, he wondered what would have happened if he skipped even one sin. “So… I’m allowed into Heaven?”

“Correct.” She says, smiling at him once more as she closes the thin book, it quickly disappearing into a poof of white smoke. “I am to direct you to these Gates behind me and you shall enter. Once passed the threshold you will earn your own set of wings and another angel will direct you to orientation. From there you will be given an assignment and will live out the rest of your existence to serve God.”

“Huh.” Anthony sounded, letting the information set in. “That’s kinda neat.”

She chuckles softly at that. “It is, especially for one such as yourself who is redeemed by God Themselves. I suspect that you will have an important duty given to you and will be a favorite of Them.” A beat passes as she half turns to the gates, gesturing to them. “Now, come along Anthony. I do have others to direct and judge.”

“Oh, sorry!” He apologizes as she follows behind her, eyes dead set on the wings folded on her back. So he will get a set of wings like that soon. A smile graces his face as he wonders just how they will feel on his back. But just as they reach the gates he freezes, the angel sensing his lack of movement before turning back to face him questioningly. “Uh, I do have one question… I just… I was wonderin’ if maybe… I don’t know…”

“Yes?”

“I… do ya know if perhaps someone will be allowed into Heaven when they die? I think I know the answer since he isn’t religious at all but I… I love him so… if it’s too much to ask I’d like him to be here with me too. When the time comes.”

She blinked at him slowly, her face, which has remained neutral slowly turning into a scowl. Anthony mentally slapped himself for asking for too much about to apologize quickly when she spoke. “No, typically it is not too much to ask for a soul to enter Heaven. Typically the angel that requests it has to pay a tribute to God to ask for that soul’s entry followed by a test designed for that soul. If they pass, then they are allowed in, if not, they are damned to Hell for the rest of eternity.” Anthony nodded with vigor, understanding the terms. He felt a bubble of hope come up from within him. Perhaps one day he could see his love again and apologize for dying on him and hold him again in his arms and—“But I know of the one you speak of and he will never be allowed past the Gates of Heaven. He has already been judged and his soul will be dragged straight to Hell.”

The words hit him like a ton of bricks; his brain stopped functioning as he tried to understand. “I… what? No, I… I’m talkin’ about Alastor. He loves me. He’s kind and sweet and he took care of me I—“

“Yes, Alastor Munier from Louisiana. That is whom I am referring to.” Anthony blinked, feeling his throat tighten up and his breath being caught up in his chest. “Actually…” She muses softly, her amber eyes going distant as she pauses. “It appears he’s committing more sins now.” She says nonchalantly and as if she couldn’t care less. She raises her right hand as her eyes begin to glow golden as an orb appeared from her hands, an image automatically appearing in it. With her left hand she once again gives it another flick, another book spawning in the air, this time the book covered in a red leather binding, the book much thicker than his own, probably hundreds of hundreds of pages in it. Anthony gawked at both the book and the orb, switching his gaze between both items as the bolded black text of Alastor’s name stared at him dead in the face, his death date still not added on its cover.

Anthony walks closer to the orb as she inspects Alastor’s book, looking into the depths of the orbs to see Alastor entering an abandoned, decrepit building, shadows moving erratically around him. He leaned in closer, his heart starting to break as the pictures continued moving in the orb. Soon it showed him confronting the three men that killed him, the echoing, distant sounds of their voices coming up from within the floating orb. “Who the hell are you?” One of the three men’s voice asked, Anthony’s spine having a shiver as he recognized it as the one with the bat.

“You killed Anthony…” Alastor’s voice sounded then, strained, rough, different. It _scared_ Anthony as his eyes watched Alastor’s back as he pulled out two very large knives.

“How’d the fuck…?” Another of the men murmured.

“Well don’t just stand there!” The ringleader yelled. “Kill the bastard!”

The one who had the gun pointed it towards Alastor, and Anthony inhaled sharply, his hands landing on the orb as he yelled into it. “No, Alastor! Don’t!” He watched in horror as Alastor moved with almost inhuman speed, dodging quickly but still getting hit in the side with a bullet before he swung a knife across the gunman’s throat, blood splattering onto Alastor but his love not acting phased at all. “ _No_ …” Anthony croaked, his hands coming to cover his mouth as tears began to fall.

Pravuil’s voice was heard then, Anthony focusing both of her and on the action in the orb with his ears as his eyes couldn’t be torn away as he watched Alastor quickly murder the three men who killed him, his face crazed and delirious, frightening Anthony even more. “Most of his sins consist of murder, cannibalism and dark magic. Seems like he recently preformed a dark ritual and the three cases of murder were just added onto this page.” She says calmly, the words causing Anthony to fall onto his knees, his eyes no longer on the orb as it continued following Alastor’s actions as he started to hack the bodies into pieces, his anger and distraught form apparent, the faint sounds of bone break and flesh tearing echoing in Anthony’s ears. The Archangel willed the book to disappear as she approached Anthony from the side, her eyes glancing to the orb as she watched in utter disgust at the sinner.

“ _Take it away…_ ” Anthony croaked, his tears tasting vile as it ran over his lips and onto his tongue, his heart and maybe even his soul shattering. “ _No more… please._ ”

With a wave of her right hand the orb dissipated into light, she offering that same hand to Anthony once more as she spoke. “You need not concern yourself with him any longer. Your earthly form has been left behind so you are no longer bound to him in any way. You can let go of your emotions and move on. Fret not, Anthony, his sins are not your own. You are welcomed into Heaven.”

Those words, which Anthony was sure was meant to be reassuring, did nothing for him as he shut his eyes. He had lived and loved a murderer, an apparent cannibal who practiced magic and successfully. He had felt so betrayed then, so lost in the feelings he had felt for the other just being effectively ripped from him. His joy and love he had while he was alive suddenly so sullied with the truth. He regretted asking Pravuil his question earlier. It would have been better to not know, to ask perhaps of his sister and mother instead. Eventually he placed his hand back in the angel’s once again being lifted up onto his feet. She gestured to the gates again and Anthony wordlessly stepped forward as she lingered behind, watching him.

As he reached the ornate gates he stopped before them, his tear stained face glancing up at the tall structure as it opened then, a brilliant light creeping up from behind, blinding Anthony but he made no move to block his eyes, a part of him hoping they would burn away the memory of what he just witnessed. Once they opened to their full extent, Anthony glanced back at the angel who was still there, almost as encouragement, with her hands held daintily before her. He inhaled and turned back to the gates, crossing the threshold slowly.

And as he crossed into the Kingdom of Heaven, in the blinding brilliant light, two grand wings materialized onto Anthony’s back, reaching up and outwards, stretching out in their full length for the first time, the gates closing behind him with finality.

</|\> </|\> </|\>

Alastor drove day and night, his right hand constantly pressing down on his bullet wound. He was able to remove the bullet, albeit quite messily, and dressed the wound but it hadn’t stopped bleeding since he left his latest crime scene. He cursed the police that were apparently right on Anthony’s murderers’ tail, interrupting him as he was trying to finish up on the bodies. Alastor had no choice to run, driving mindlessly back to New Orleans, his adrenaline still somehow high through his sleep depravation and bloodshot eyes. The shadows, whom he contracted with, were satisfied with the three bodies and soul, getting paid even more as Alastor ordered them to kill the officers so that he could get away, ending their contract at that, seeing no more use for them.

But now he was effectively on the run. All of the county was on the look out for him and cops in every town were on him the moment he passed though. He ignored them all, of course. If he was going to die he was going to die where he wanted, damn it. He hadn’t felt truly satisfied with how things ended in that abandoned building. He wasn’t planning on eating the bodies of his love’s killers but he wanted to carve them up more and being interrupted angered him more.

Eventually, days later, many deaths later, and stolen gas and cars later, he arrived at his burnt down home in the bayous of Louisiana. He parked the current vehicle outside the rubble, grabbing the shotgun and a box of bullets from the passenger side, not even bothering to close the door behind him as he stared out at the rubble. “Not much like home anymore. I suppose that’s what happens when you have a scheme to get insurance money.” He chuckles to himself at his own little joke, sighing dramatically as he heads into the bayou, not caring if his pants or shoes got wet.

He continued onwards, down a path he needed no markers for, until he reached a clearing with a large oak tree, the many thick branches stretching out majestically, with Spanish moss hanging from upper branches, draping down in veils of sorts. On the trunk of the tree, right before the branches split off, was a large buck’s skull nailed onto the trunk, pieces of old dried flesh and leather hanging off its antlers and the evidence of many years of dark rituals scattered around the base of the tree before it; blood circles, skulls of animals and humans alike, burnt down candles and rusted knives. Alastor sighed heavily as he stood before the alter, taking the time to load two shells into the shotgun.

“I suppose I really should have stopped…” He muttered to himself as he clicked the barrel of the shotgun closed. He looks up to the sky then, his eyes scanning though the branches to catch glimpses of the darkening sky above him. “Maybe this is my punishment for daring to love you and continue to be a murderer.” He spoke to the Heavens, his red, bloodshot eyes slowly beginning to form tears for the first time in days. With a shaky breath he continued. “I’m sorry, Anthony. I really should have stopped…” He inhaled deeply, smelling the familiar scents of his home as the tears fell down his cheeks. “I just wish I could see you one more time, darling.” He mused closing his eyes in defeat, his heart heavy in his chest, his stomach twisted in knots of despair.

Distantly the sounds of dogs barking reached Alastor’s ears. His head dipped down as he turned, glaring at the direction of the sounds. “Damned mutts.” He cursed. He never liked dogs. They always were loud and he did have a terrible experience with one as a child that scarred him. He raised his gun, aiming it towards the sounds as they grew louder and louder. “Damn things can never just lay off.” He states as he spots the first of the police canines, shooting it with deadly accuracy, a dying yelp reaching his ears as he fired another shell into the next dog, killing that one as well, the gunshots echoing off the trees surrounding them.

Reloading with a calm urgency, he clicked the barrel close again just as the dogs were halfway to him, shooting another shell off, hitting that dog in the chest, it dropping dead instantly. As he aimed again as a dog jumped up towards him, the bullet missing but grazing the side of the dog as it latched onto one of his arms. Not a sound came from Alastor as he grinned, hitting the dog with the butt of the gun as another latched onto his leg. Another group of dogs, these on leashes pulling the Louisiana police department appeared then, the humans pointing and aiming their guns at the serial killer. As the police released their dogs and they came bounding up to Alastor, their teeth sinking into various places in his legs and arms, trying to pull him down to the ground.

The dogs eventually caused Alastor to drop his bullets and the gun and Alastor began to laugh in a crazed manner. His thoughts all filled with Anthony; his face, his being, his kind soul, his talent, his voice, the feel of his hands gently on his, the smell of him, taste of him, how he warmed his practically dead heart. The tears continued down his face, but they weren’t in pain, he could barely feel the teeth of the dogs latching onto him. His laughter continued amidst all this, the sound reaching the police as they shouted at him and ordered their dogs around. Alastor found this all amusing frankly.

Somehow he always knew he would die in a mutt related incident.

What he didn’t expect was the sole gun shot being fired off, hitting him square in the forehead. In an instant his laughter stopped but the streams of water leaving his eyes continued on their own accord, his body dropping lifeless onto his back. The police dogs finally released him, but remained close around the body, it aligning with the alter and the skull, it seemingly looking down on him from its perch, wordlessly uttering out its farewell.

_Goodbye Alastor. See you in Hell._

</|\> </|\> </|\>

It was Alastor’s tenth year in Hell and despite not being long in Hell, relatively speaking, he was already climbing up the ranks of the demon hierarchy, making somewhat of a name for himself as he gathered power and built up his strength. Uncreatively the denizens of Hell began to call him the “Radio Demon” as his demonic powers included the use of broadcasting with the use of his mic stand. His first ever broadcast was ironically the same three beings that had killed Anthony. They didn’t recognize him at first, because he looked different after all, but they caught on fairly quick as he reminded everyone in Hell that you _can_ die twice.

That image of a murdering, cannibalistic demon was fresh in this imp demon’s mind as she held her crying baby. It didn’t match the demon before her, the one who had just saved her baby from an untimely death by the hands of an executioner angel. “T-thank you?” She stuttered out questioningly, not knowing if she should thank him or not. 

“Dear lady, I just saved that crying nuisance from the exterminators and you questioningly thank me? Perhaps I should have just let the babe die, then? Did I ruin your plans?” A laugh track played and the imp female found herself stuttering and shaking her head in defiance.

“O-of course not! T-thank you, Radio Demon.”

“Now get out of my sight. If I can see you that means that those exterminators can too!”

She scampered off then, running to safety with her still crying newborn. Alastor heaved a sigh of exasperation, being already extremely bored of Hell already. He was about to move on, continue his little hellish stroll when a voice reached his ears from behind him, freezing him in his spot, everything in him tense. “I wanted to thank ya…” Alastor’s breathing grew more labored as he forced himself to turn, his red demonic eyes looking at an angelic being.

He was a dreadfully pale angel, platinum blonde air, blue eyes that sparkled and made his heart ache. He wore armor, which was quite the unique sight to Alastor. Nearly all white armor, white ankle boots with gold soles and accenting, white stockings and shorts, golden plates of armors at the sides, a pair of silver pistols, armor down to his wrist from his torso with golden shoulder platting on the right shoulder, golden shoulder cape hanging off the left, the armor clasping around his neck and finally a sword attached onto his back, nestled between a striking pair of white wings. Alastor felt his breath caught and he swallowed thickly, trying to remain calm as his heart erratically beat in his chest, a combination of fear, anxiety, elation and hope making his body tremble.

“I wanted to thank ya,” he started again, smiling faintly, “I saw that one of my brethren was gonna kill a child an’ I was afraid I wasn’t gonna make it.”

Alastor couldn’t help the small, almost insane little chuckle that came out of him. His head tiled to the side and the name left his mouth before he could truly think about it. “Anthony…”

The angel blinked in shock, visibly flinching back. They stared at each other; slowly the angel’s face twisting in careful observation, his eyes narrowing as he looked over the demon before him. Suddenly the shock came back again, he physically stepping back which made Alastor’s heart break a little bit more in its almost shattered state. “Alastor.” Anthony spoke then, a wave of emotion washing over Alastor as he didn’t know if he should feel happy to hear his name out of Anthony’s mouth again or terrified.

“Anthony, darling—“

“Ya bastard!” Anthony shouted then, angry tears falling without his permission. “What the Heaven were ya thinkin’? Murder? Eatin' other people? Fuckin’ voodoo shit?”

Alastor held back the flinch but the feeling inside him was still the same. Shame. Shame that was ripping him to shreds now as he watched the tears fall from the angel’s face. He took a couple steps forward, a hand extended out to the other. “Anthony, let me explain, I—“

Anthony stepped back more, causing Alastor to stop in his movement, the hand dropping back to his side. “No! Ya let _me_ explain somethin’ to ya!” Anthony scolded, his eyes pointed and furious with the demon before him. “I _loved_ ya. An’ ya knew how hard I was on myself bein’ with ya due to my faith. Ya knew that I struggled an’ yet ya never thought it was important to tell me _what_ you are?” Alastor listened to the words carefully, the _loved_ at the beginning echoing loudly in his mind. “I _trusted_ ya.” Anthony continued as he brought a hand to his chest in a tick he wasn’t able to kick since he was alive, grasping for a cross that was no longer there. “I _lived_ with ya, cooked with ya, _slept_ with ya an’ ya just… just _failed_ to tell me that ‘hey, I’m a mass serial killer, oh, an’ I eat my victims’?”

“Not _all_ of my victims.” Alastor said before he could stop, getting in return a sharp and angry inhale from Anthony, the angel’s face turning red with anger.

“Ya… ya…” Anthony stuttered his anger reaching a boiling point. “That’s your fuckin’ issue! It’s nothin’ to ya. Just another fuckin’ game!” The angel shook his head and turned his back to the demon, walking away from him. Alastor moved forward, trailing behind the angel but keeping a distance when suddenly Anthony whipped around, freezing Alastor once more. “Tell me somethin’… when I first went over to your place for that lesson… were ya plannin’ on killin’ me?”

Alastor felt his heart drop, and his breathing stop. He stood there petrified, the static ringing loudly in his ears as he looked into those blue eyes that he loves; blue eyes that no longer showed any love back but only hatred. Alastor could feel his lungs burning as he apparently truly wasn’t breathing as he stood there, his mind racing with how he should answer. Should he lie? Should he tell the truth? His hands twitched and moisture built up on his palms, his hands suddenly turning into fists as he finally allowed himself to breath again. “ _Yes_.” He whispered, the one word answer drifting on the wind like an ill omen.

Alastor heard a heartbreaking gasp from the angel; the eyes turning from hatred to pure despair as a sob escaped. The tears that fell now were those of heartbreak, much like the ones that fell when he stood outside the Gates of Heaven. Another sob broke loose and Alastor’s hand twitched again, wanting to reach up and take his Anthony into his arms, to console him however he could, kiss him, dote on him, to make up for every mistake he’s ever made and then some. Instead, the angel shook his head multiple times, stray tears dropping onto the ground as he did so, before he extended his wings and flew away.

And the Radio Demon stood there helpless and for once, very powerless.

</|\> </|\> </|\>

The next time he encountered the angel was on another stroll of his during extermination day several years later. He was walking when he stumbled onto Anthony, surrounded the bodies of demons, all in a circle as he stood in the center. Another demon, stupidly, charged out from the side and Anthony straight up shot him so easily, the bullet hitting him square in the face, Alastor fighting the urge to touch the mark on his forehead where a bullet took him out in the same spot. Though he wore his signature grin on his face, on the inside he felt sick. The Anthony before him was not like the one he knew and loved when they were alive. He wondered if it was _him_ ; if Alastor himself was the cause for this change. He approached the angel slowly, clearing his throat as he reached him, miraculously holding back a flinch as Anthony raised a pistol to his face.

Anthony’s eyes narrowed at him in a glare, the finger on the trigger twitched and Alastor had a feeling that a part of Anthony truly wanted to pull the trigger. A part of Alastor wouldn’t move if he did so. Instead, to his surprise, Anthony lowered the gun, turning his back to him once more and stepping over the corpses of the demons he killed daintily. Alastor inhaled, deciding to follow behind the angel as he did before years ago. “You seem different.” He spoke, nearly kicking himself for how quiet his voice sounded to his own ears.

Anthony laughs then, the sound coming off strange to Alastor as it almost sounded manic, full of sarcasm that was very apparent as he spoke. “I wonder why.” The angel turned then, a half smirk on his face as he eyed Alastor like he was eying up a lamb for the slaughter for his _osso buco milanese_ Alastor loved so much.

“At least you’re very efficient.” The demon says then, sounding much like his normal self but as Anthony was the actor on screen, he was an actor in voice.

With a scoff Anthony waves a pistol in the air lazily. “Well, _excuse me_ that I ain’t a natural born killer like ya. This isn’t why I sauntered up to Heaven post-death to do.”

“Post- _murder_.” Alastor corrected, his voice no longer acting as the anger rose from him. Even with killing Anthony’s murders, _twice_ , every time he thought about it the anger rose as if just happened, as if it was that fateful night he lost his Anthony to people like him, murders with no regard for those who may love their prey.

The silence stretched between them as Anthony lowered his pistol again. “Yeah… post-murder.” He agreed quietly before he turned his back once more, taking that as the end of their conversation of the year.

Instead, Anthony heard Alastor’s voice reach to him once more, stopping him despite wanting this interaction to end himself. “I knew I should have stopped, Anthony.” The deer demon speaks, his first true attempt at an apology slipping out before he could truly stop to think about it. “I knew, yet I couldn’t. I have been killing others for so long I just couldn’t seem to just let it go. It became a part of me… I suppose literally as I ate most of my prey—I mean victims.”

“No, they were prey.” Anthony stated, half turning to look back at the demon. “ _I_ was your prey.”

“No, Anthony, it was—“

“You shoulda never killed in the first place.”

“That, quite frankly, is unfair my dear. You wouldn’t have been able to change nor influence my past before I had met you. It is reminiscent of a jealous woman being irate that one slept with so many partners before meeting her just because she remained a virgin.”

Anthony inhaled, thinking of a retort when none came to mind. As much as it annoyed the angel, he had to agree, partly at least, with the demon’s analogy. He couldn’t have simply controlled what the man did before they had met in Hollywood in 1936. But, of course, he wasn’t going to state that and instead opted to scoff at the demon once more. “It still ain’t normal how many ya killed, Alastor. Your book of sins is downright gruesome, ya know that?”

With that the angel beats his wings and leaves the demon behind. Though his quota was done, he himself was feeling agitated, so he was going to be an overachieving angel and take out some more demons until the bells rang out.

</|\> </|\> </|\>

After that last debacle of a meeting, Alastor remained home during the past several exterminations, he not wanting to repeat the same strained tension between him and his (ex?) lover. But of course, he being one to get bored easily, tired of remaining home, no amount of playing music or instruments or reading could really keep him inside. So he climbed up to the roof of his radio station tower, scanning the horizons of Pentagram City below him. His main tower was one of the taller structures in Hell, besides the King’s castle, and the clock tower. As he scanned the area, he was surprised to see Anthony upon his roof, looking out on the city, his white wings tucked elegantly on his back. Though Alastor didn’t want to really test the waters of his precarious relationship with Anthony, he just couldn’t pass up the opportunity as it arose naturally. “May I trouble you to find out why you are on my roof?” Alastor’s voice sounded even and collected and though he was not nearly as shaken as he was the first couple times he saw Anthony, his heart still hammered loudly in his ribcage.

Anthony turned around, his eyes wide. “Shit. This is _your_ roof? I honestly thought it was public domain… sorry.” He said then, making Alastor smile, he was still polite even when he was understandably pissed with him. He watched as Anthony beat his wings, flying off the roof and hanging off the edge in the air for a moment, their eyes connecting for a couple calm moments before he turned.

Alastor was not particularly down for Anthony leaving him, _yet again_ , so he spoke up, folding his hands behind his back, the smile on his face authentic, or as authentic as it could be, and inviting. “Been very busy, dear?”

At the question, Anthony turned in the air, eyeing the demon with a cautious gaze. “Excuse me?”

“It just seems to me that you’re just here being lazy watching everyone else do their jobs.”

Alastor smirked as he got the reaction from the other as he wanted, the angel beating his wings with vigor once at the insult. The deer demon figured that if trying to approach in a more gentlemanly fashion wasn’t working, he would try to _purposely_ annoy the angel.

“I will have ya know that I’ve been promoted! I have a battalion an’ I already handled my quota, thank ya very much!”

“Sure, of course. Whatever you say.” Alastor sounded, turning his back to the angel. Probably stupid, considering Anthony may very well shoot him from behind, but Alastor was feeling overly confident for some reason. His instincts telling him that he’s doing the right thing in getting a rise out of the angel.

“An’ what, in Heaven’s sake, is that suppos’d to mean?”

“Nothing, truly. Just seeing if you’d stick around instead of storming off again.”

“Storm off…?!”

“Like a whirlwind.” Alastor said, turning to face the angel then, smiling fondly at the other. He was so easy to capture when they were alive, he walking into his trap in his apartment, it terrifically failing which led to the start of their relationship. It was quite a change for him to be trying this hard to gain, or in this case, regain the affections of another. If someone had told him years ago, before he even met Anthony, that he would be trying this hard he would have laughed. And probably killed them for even being so idiotic.

Anthony’s wings faltered, that smile bringing back a familiar, buried emotion from inside him. “Yeah, well,” the angel started, turning away from him once again, “guess ya can just call me whatever ya like. I got work to oversee.”

With that Anthony quickly disappeared, flying down the building and into the distance. Alastor watched his flight as he walked to the edge of the roof, smiling sadly to himself. “What’ver ya say, cher.”

</|\> </|\> </|\>

After that more arguably successful meeting, Alastor once again started to roam the streets during exterminations, killing the occasional exterminator here and then when they dared to attack him. His stroll eventually brought him to the center of Pentagram City, to a circular park that revealed to him a full blown battle between, for once, organized demons and a battalion of angels. At the forefront was Anthony, covered in demon blood nearly from head to toe. Alastor, beside himself, felt his breath caught. Never once had he ever imagined Anthony covered in blood (save for maybe the one time he did want to kill him), but seeing the angel covered in his enemy’s blood did something to Alastor. Despite not being all into sex, with Anthony he was always a bit looser with it, and by Lucifer did Anthony look appealing covered in the blood and guts of others. He watched from afar, not wanting to get too involved as other angels were still around in the area. He watched as the angel reloaded his pistols, firing off rounds into attacking demons, killing them easily.

“For God’s sake!” The Radio Demon heard the angel distantly. “Just call it already! I ain’t dyin’ here, not today, not ever!” The Radio Demon flinched then when he saw the other turn and get punched in the face, the angel stumbling for a moment before swapping a gun out for his sword, swiping it easily across the air, cutting a demon in half.

Alastor almost swooned. _Almost_.

“Did ya hafta punch me in the face?” The angel sighed and Alastor nodded in agreement. In fact, any other demon should just steer clear of the angel. If Anthony would only be more willing, he would have easily killed all the attacking demons for him.

“Eat shit, angel!” An offending yell sounded and soon it was followed by a scream of pain by the angel, causing Alastor to tense up, his body poised as he eyed a bolt arrow in the angel’s shoulder, another flying into his leg and another into his side.

The Radio Demon looked around; there were no other angels. Anthony was now alone and whatever weapons these demons had, it was powerful enough to go through the angel’s armor. Beyond his better judgment the demon snapped his fingers, tentacles breaking though the ground around Anthony, making the angel jump in surprise as the demon rushed out there, the tentacles knocking more bolts out of the air. Anthony eyed him as he approached, his face of surprise turning to anger. “What the Hel—Heaven are ya doin’? Back the fuck up before someone sees—“

“What the Hell’s this?” A demon asked as he was joined by two other demons, all with modified crossbows. “The Radio Demon? Helpin’ an angel?”

The Radio Demon grins in response, his head tilting slightly. “Let’s just say, this angel here is _mine_.”

Anthony turned his gaze to the demon, an eyebrow raised in defiance. “ _Excuse me_? Who is _yours_?”

“Fine, fine!” The first demon spoke again offhandedly. “He’s yours but we need to ask him a couple questions first.”

“Like I’d answer to ya.” Anthony responded and as a second demon fired a bolt Alastor had a tentacle defend the angel once more, slapping the bolt down onto the floor before reaching out and grasping around the demon. “For God’s sake, Alastor, don’t help me!”

“What kinda relationship do y'all have that the angel knows his name?” A third demon asked as he raised his crossbow, primed to fire another bolt. Most demons didn't know that angels received information about the strongest demons in Hell. However, that is definitely _not_ the reason on how Anthony knew the Radio Demon and the angel was primed on keeping both facts a secret. 

“Oh, fuck me.” Anthony cursed as he then beat his wings down quickly, causing a whirlwind around both him and Alastor. This threw the three attacking demons off guard and as Anthony shot the first demon in the head, Alastor had another tentacle grab the third demon.

“Anthony, batter up!” Alastor said jokingly as he tossed the now screaming second demon towards Anthony, the angel quickly swinging the sword in his hand and cutting the demon in half, more blood falling onto him as the two halves of the body flew past him.

“Seriously, can ya stop?” Anthony asked, giving a gesture of ‘what the fuck’ to Alastor. “Ya really can’t be helpin’ me like this. If my boss sees this then I’m fucked.”

“Oh, we wouldn’t want that, now would we?” Alastor replies simply, tossing the angel a fond smile, causing Anthony to exhale as the familiar feelings bubbled up once more in him. The demon then whips the remaining demon in his tentacle’s grasp towards Anthony with no warning, surprising the angel as he shoots the demon and dodges the corpse simultaneously, it sliding past Alastor comically.

“Ya did that on purpose, didn’t ya?”

“Whatever could you mean?”

“ _Alastor_.”

“ _Anthony_.” Alastor mimicked, though his tone was deeper and more playful.

“S-stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“ _That_!” Alastor chose to remain silent, only tilting his head in confusion. “Ugh, fuck ya.”

“Only if ya wanna, cher.” Alastor responded then, switching so cleanly into his Creole accent which elicited a growl, and a blush, from the angel.

The angel about to rebuttal when at that moment a red headed angel flew down, shouting the angel’s name, before shoving a spear towards the demon as the demon grinned down the blade and towards the demon. “Step away from him you damned demon!” The red headed angel yelled.

Alastor did nothing but continue to grin, now murderously towards the new angel. He felt as if he was making progress, damn it. “Fuckin’ leave him.” Anthony cursed turning his back and yanking the bolt out of his leg with a pain filled flinch.

“Sir?” The other angel responded, keeping one eye on the demon as he turned his attention to his elder.

“That’s the infamous Radio Demon, an’ if ya did your readin’ like you’re suppos’d to, you’d know we can’t take him on… as much as I’d like to.” Alastor’s grin dropped slightly. Though the statement was there, and the demon felt that the angel _partially_ meant it, the intent was truly behind it. “Now, medevac me outta here before I change my mind.”

“But sir—“

“ _Now_ , Herne.”

“Yes, sir.” The angel called Herne responded as he abandoned the Radio Demon, sheathing his spear before moving to help Anthony.

Alastor once again found himself watching Anthony walk away, though this time, his grin grew as Anthony actually turned back to him for the slightest of moments.

</|\> </|\> </|\>

Why, today, of all days?

Alastor slammed a tentacle down onto one of Vox’s electronic monsters as the television demon stood off against him, ordering more of his monsters to attack. The Radio Demon was going to continue his plan of both irking and flirting with Anthony again but his nemesis just had to pick _today_ of all days to attack him. Just as he felt as he was finally getting somewhere with the angel.

The deer demon was, notably, very distracted, and Vox noticed this as he took the opportunity to wrap some cables around the deer demon’s body, sending volts of electricity to him. The Radio Demon refused to cry out as the electricity surged in him painfully. Hell will freeze over first before he gives Vox that satisfaction. But just as Alastor was going to retaliate, his plan to open a pit below Vox’s own feet in the hopes that he’d opt to catch himself with these cables that come out of his body, the television demon was quickly pushed into the wall with an unseen force of energy, releasing Alastor. The Radio Demon landed gracefully, if not heavily, onto his feet, seeing Anthony, of all beings, fly down, and with a flick of his wrist engulf the television demon in a shield and before the other demon could even process what was happening, Anthony’s body poised itself like a pitcher in a baseball game, tossing his arm out in a throw as the shield ball then suddenly soars into the air, Vox screaming in horror as he disappears away from his battlefield.

Anthony sighs begrudgingly as he claps his hands together, cleaning the nonexistent dust off his hands. Turning to face the Radio Demon, seeing the awestruck look on the other’s face, despite everything, the angel laughs curtly. “What? No ‘thank you, Anthony’?”

Alastor, snapping back into reality, grinned mischievously at the angel as he bowed at the waist, swinging and arm in a dramatic fashion, almost reminiscent of the night they first met after their first dance in that seedy nightclub in Hollywood. “Why, thank you, Anthony.” He parrots, being rewarded with another, more authentic laugh from the angel, making his own smile shift from mischievous to warm and genuinely happy.

“Well, aren’t ya a gentleman?” Anthony says, both of them pausing for a moment at the general déjà vu at the moment. But as soon as the moment occurred Anthony’s smile shifted to a smaller one, one that Alastor could tell he was trying to reign back on, feeling that there were a lot more emotions behind it than meets the eye. “Now we’re even. Thanks… for last time.”

Yet again, the angel preps himself to leave and the demon can’t help the words that escape his mouth, no matter how pathetic they may sound. “Don’t go.” The angel pauses, keeping his back turned to the demon as he continued. “Why go through the trouble of helping me?”

The question hung in the air, the more secret, underlying question laced within it.

_Does this mean you still care for me?_

It was almost obvious between them both, or else Anthony wouldn’t have bothered to save Alastor the trouble of continuing to fight Vox. He who had complained about being helped before and almost seen basically turned around and did the same. Perhaps out of worry or even compassion, perhaps truly just as repayment. However, the angel made no move to admit it aloud even as their interactions were getting more and more dangerous. After all, he had gained the title of Dominion a while back and through the grapevine he heard he was going to be promoted again and become the overseeing Dominion, no longer having to even kill demons in Hell anymore. Though of course, it wasn’t discouraged either.

So instead, the angel didn’t respond and flew away yet again as the bells from Heaven sounded, calling the angels to return anyway.

</|\> </|\> </|\>

Over the next decade and as the 1970s rolled in, the Radio Demon never encountered the angel he had loved so much. This constant push and pull, seeing him and then not seeing him, was weighing heavy on the demon’s heart. From the moment he saw him again during that first meeting in Hell, he realized that he was still very much in love with his angel. It was ironic, or maybe not, that he called Anthony his angel when they were alive and now he was truly an angel, befitting of everything the younger male ever was when they were alive. He truly deserved more than him, but at the same time Alastor could never find it within himself to let the other go. After all, he was happy and in love, a feeling he thought he would never feel when he was alive and he was selfish. But now that he was dead, the torture of having love and losing it, but then seeing it, feeling it occasionally, the hope rising only having it rejected by the one who holds his demonic heart was truly his punishment here in Hell. He felt like he was going mad with these feelings but he tried his best to hold it all together; after all, he didn’t need to go as deranged as he did when Anthony was murdered. He needed to keep his head on his shoulders now more than ever.

So, that’s why when he was out on his porch, at a loss as to what to do, he was surprised to see the said angel floating before him, wings occasionally batting downwards to keep him in the air. They stare at each other, nothing but silence passing between them before Anthony finally sighs and invites himself onto the porch with Alastor, surprising the demon as he turns to face the other. “Anthony?” He hears himself call out to the other, truly dumbstruck as to why, now after all this time, the angel would choose to reveal himself before him, acting much different than any other time they’ve met in Hell before.

“I can’t believe I’m aksin’ this but can we head inside? I’d rather not risk anyone seein’ or hearin’ what I wanna talk about.” The deer demon blinked in astonishment but nonetheless opened the pair of French doors leading into his home for the angel, allowing him to enter first. Upon entering the living room, Alastor watched as Anthony scanned the area, standing just past the threshold of the doors. “Cozy.” He simply states before he headed to the wall of deer skulls, all lined above a fireplace and before a sofa and a wingback chair, walking briskly past the piano just before the doors as if it was a sin onto itself. 

The demon chuckles faintly. “If you think this is nice you should see the rest of the place! It’s got quite the killer atmosphere!”

Typically his laugh track would play, his demonic mic having the honors of doing that, but before the mic could even initiate it, the angel laughed, _truly_ laughed since Alastor had known him in Hell. “Oh, God, that was a horrible joke. You’ve been sittin’ on that one for a while I bet.” The angel dares to glance back at the demon, quickly turning away as he sees the look of adoration on the demon’s face, just as quickly changing the subject. “How do ya even get these down here? Are there even deer in Hell? ‘Sides ya, I mean. Don’t get smart with me.”

Alastor said nothing for a while as he stared at the back of the angel in his home. The sudden desire to turn this terrible place, where he literally kills and tortures demons in a room just down the hall, into a home for both him _and_ the angel overtaking him so much his hands were shaking. Having the angel in _his_ territory, in the heart of his home was too much, knowing that he couldn’t touch the other for he wasn’t even so sure the other being would even allow it. He was still so rough toward him, his heart ached at the longing, so much so it showed in the tone of his voice as he spoke. “Why are you here?” He asked, his voice albeit calm, was clear of the static for once; his overall demeanor, however, was almost small in stature. “If you’re here to cause me pain, then trust me, you don’t need to be here to do that. I do that just fine on my own.”

At that the angel turned back to the demon, his face visibly showing his sorrow at those words, the angel not helping the stray tear that fell from his eye. “No, no Alastor, I’m not here for that.” His own voice broke as he swallowed. “Can ya just… answer a couple questions for me?” Alastor just nodded, making a vow to not cry before the angel. He not once, living or dead, cried before Anthony, and it was not about to change. However the angel’s wavering voice, his stray tear was making it difficult for him, the same crippling shame from when they first met in Hell making his dark core shiver with dread. “Did ya ever truly love me?” Anthony asks first, his voice soft at the prospect of the answer from the demon.

Alastor’s eyes widened as he looked back at the angel. “Anthony, _yes_. Of course I loved you. I…” No, he wasn’t going to confess that he still did, just in case this all went south. “I’m not lying to you. You’re the first and only person, outside my own mother, I have ever loved. And probably the last person I will ever love.” He adds, not truly admitting that he still loved him but despite deciding against telling the angel he still wanted a segway into it if things went well.

The angel, chuckles in an almost relieved tone. “I believe ya.” He chuckles again, brokenly this time. “It’s the same for me.” He starts, his voice softer than before, as if he was afraid they were being eavesdropped on. And perhaps they were. “Sure I whored around for a while but… ya were the only one I loved in my whole life, like that. The only person I had sex with that was outta love an’ not for cash. It wouldn’t be too far to say that ya are the first an’ last man I will ever love…”

Alastor felt his heart beating sporadically in his chest. If he were alive perhaps it would be a heart attack as his mind raced. “Anthony?” He tried slowly, not trusting anything in the world right now. “Do you still love me?” There isn’t a response as Anthony turns his head away, almost in shame himself, but he sees his right hand move up to his chest, to grab a cross that was no longer there, a mannerism the Radio Demon knew quite well. Alastor’s spine straightens and his breath hitches, his palms felt like faucets now with the amount of perspiration that was coming off of them. “Anthony… do you still love me?” He asked again, not truly feeling satisfied though he felt he knew the answer. His instincts were telling him one thing that he so desperately wanted to latch onto but he refused to unless he heard it from the other being himself.

Instead, the angel broke down in tears, the sobs racking through his body as he collapsed onto the sofa before the fireplace. Alastor moved then, without even thinking about it, and joined the angel on the sofa, a hand coming to rest on the one still clutched at his chest and another on his shoulder. The sudden touch made both of them flinch, seeing as it had been so long since contact between them was even a thing, but Anthony leaned into it, going so far as leaning towards Alastor until his head rested on his shoulder. “It’s so _fucked_!” The angel cursed, the sobs breaking up his speech. “I should _hate_ ya! I felt so betrayed when I found out about ya! It felt like I died a second time!” Alastor let the words sink into his mind, the hand on Anthony’s shoulder moving to his arm, rubbing it up and down the appendage. “But I _can’t_! By God, what’s _wrong_ with me? I don’t know what to do!” The angel cried out, shaking his head into Alastor’s shoulder.

Alastor feels torn then. His selfish side wanting nothing more than to keep the angel in his arms and never let go. The angel had allowed himself to go vulnerable, now was the time to go in for the kill, so to speak, and claim him once again as his own. But that was not the side that won. “You have to forget about me, Anthony.”

“W-What?” The angel sounded, pulling back from the demon.

“Forget about me. All your living life you worried about sinning too much, about being damned to Hell. Anthony, you made it, you’re an angel, you’re in Heaven. Don’t throw that all away for me. Not for Hell. It isn’t worth it. _I’m_ not worth it.”

Anthony shook his head vigorously. “But ya _are_! I mean… ya helped me, taught me that accent, made me a movie star… _killed_ for me…”

There was a pause as he thought, taking in a shallow breath. Though murder was a sin, a part of Anthony was still touched, after the fact, that Alastor killed the bastards that murdered him. He felt avenged and quite frankly that his soul was lighter knowing that those who killed him weren’t still down on Earth. As time went on, the glamour of Heaven seemed to weaken; the outdated rules and the many watchful eyes making it difficult for the angel to breath, to feel calm and relaxed, especially when his mind wandered to the man, now demon, that he loved so dearly. It wasn’t much of a way to live out the rest of eternity and while every time he tried to avoid Alastor in Hell, he would find himself thinking more about him with every passing year making him more unhappy.

“I’m not happy.” Anthony states then, retelling his current thoughts to the demon before him. “I keep thinking about what I felt towards ya when I was alive and I keep rememberin’ the pain I had when I found out…”

“And that pain is why you should forget me, darling.” Alastor said, holding himself back from kissing the angel’s forehead, he’s already crossed the line but letting the endearment slip. He pulled himself farther away, reluctantly removing his hands from the angel. “No matter what good I did, it will never amount to everything else.”

“Yeah, but—“

“Anthony. Please. All this time I never wanted you to leave, but I’m asking you now; leave. Leave and forget about me.”

Anthony was shivering as if he were cold, and he _did_ he feel cold. That loving smile from the demon before him, that sad tone in his voice that he’s never heard before, the sheer anguish in his eyes as he tried to let him go. Most of all, it was that smile. He missed it, missed what it meant and now it almost felt like it was probably the last time he would ever see that smile. The angel inhaled shakily, more tears threatening to fall from his blue eyes. He was an angel, Alastor a demon, and an overlord at that. There was never going to be a way for them to be together with only meeting once a year and there was no way Alastor would be allowed into Heaven, probably no matter how much he attempted to redeem himself.

If they truly wanted to be together again, and Anthony felt in his gut that Alastor truly wanted him again, there was really only one possible solution. But was Anthony willing to take that leap for a demon?

The angel’s facial expression suddenly changed, his tears vanishing as his eyes showed a different emotion. Determination. “No.” The angel answered then, his voice thick with emotion.

“Excuse me?”

“ _No_. I don’t wannna forget about ya.” Anthony said, his voice strong as he stared right into Alastor’s eyes. “Ya didn’t kill me, why?”

Thrown in for a loop at the random question, Alastor cleared his throat. “I, uh, the cooking smelled good and it just didn’t seem right to kill the person who brought food.”

“ _That’s it_?” Anthony asked, annoyance laced in his voice.

“No.” Alastor said simply before elaborating. “I can’t explain it but I just didn’t feel the urge to. Honestly, the urge wasn’t too strong to begin with. But it just felt wrong to see you as my prey when your radiance was something that should have been protected. As we talked that night, I just didn’t want to kill you. If anything I believe from that moment I wanted to protect you myself, especially when I saw the bruises and burns on your arms. I almost killed him that night.”

“So ya were the one that killed him? I was wonderin’ about that.”

“And I would do it again. I would kill anyone who threatens or hurts you. And I died for you once, I’ll do it again.”

Anthony blinked at him. “Died for me?”

The Radio Demon smiled fondly at him. “Killing your murderers in my very irritable state made me get caught by the police. They tracked me down and killed me. The ending of my life was in your name and you were in my final thoughts.”

At that the angel mimicked the fond smile back to the demon. “An’ ya were in mine. I wanted to apologized for not makin’ it home that night an’ I kept thinkin’ on how upset ya would be.” Alastor opened his mouth to speak before Anthony’s face turned to that of sudden shock. “Oh, shit. Yeah, uh, sorry for not makin’ it home that night. I was gonna make the _osso buco milianese_ again but my dumbass self forgot a couple ingredients an’ got my ass murdered.”

The two stared at each other for a couple seconds before they broke out into laughter, their smiles wide at the audacity of it all. “You needn’t apologize, darling.” Alastor said as he continued laughing. “But I would have done without you being murdered. It gave me quite the start to hear about it on the radio.”

“I’m sorry, love, I’ll try harder next time.” Anthony said without thinking, freezing them both as they looked into each other’s eyes again. Seconds of tense silence passed between them as Anthony’s face turned stoic. “I think I’m gonna Fall for ya.”

Alastor didn’t need to see the word written down to know that it was capitalized nor that the angel wasn’t talking about falling in love with him again. The angel had always remained in love with him, as did the demon with him, that much he knew now.

And the Radio Demon didn’t need an explanation as to what Falling would entail. “No, Anthony.” He said quickly, standing and grabbing the angel’s wrist, lifting him up and dragging him towards the French doors, the angel fighting with him to be freed. “Not for me, I told you already. As much as I love you—“Anthony exhaled then in relief, perhaps hearing it straight from the demon’s mouth taking a load off his shoulders, making his decision all the more easier. Alastor stumbled over the sound, kicking himself already for admitting it when he was trying to save Anthony from Hell. “You are not Falling for me.” He finally finished, bringing the angel out into the balcony, pushing him then to go over the railing and fly back to Heaven. “Leave, now. And don’t ever come back here. Don’t ever look for me again, hell, don’t even think about me again.”

“No!” The angel refused, locking his arms on the railing and digging his heals into the porch. “Damn it, Alastor, I don’t wanna be apart from ya again.”

Alastor felt himself falter but he refused. This was the one thing he could do for Anthony that might have even the slightest chance of redeeming himself, maybe not enough to get into Heaven, probably never enough to get into Heaven, but enough for him to make him sleep easier at night. “Anthony. Leave. Now.” He strained out, utilizing his demonic strength now to push Anthony up and over the balcony but the angel screamed and Alastor by instinct latched onto his wrists, his body leaning over the rail. The angel was refusing to beat his wings and fly away, staring up at the demon as he hung over the side of the balcony, pleading with him. Alastor felt himself glare at the angel, his smile turning into a scowl. “Damn it, Anthony, _fly_!”

“ _No_!” Anthony refused again with more vigor. “Alastor, I-I love you! Please, love, don’t send me away…” The demon shook his head. No, he mustn’t falter. Not now. Anthony _had_ to remain as an angel. What if he regretted his decision later and hated him again? Alastor wouldn’t survive. Not with that guilt.

**_Ding! Ding!_ **

Alastor and Anthony looked up towards the connection port in the sky upon hearing the bells. Alastor glanced back at Anthony first and he could see the wheels turning in the angel’s head. “ _If ye stay past recall… ye shall Fall._ ” He whispered but Alastor’s ears picked up the sentence. He shook the angel, his grip on the angel’s wrists tightening only to ensure the angel doesn’t kill himself refusing to fly away.

Anthony turned his head back to the Radio Demon as he finished shaking him, seeing the red eyes turn to dials as the demon’s desperation grew. “Go home, Anthony!”

It was at that moment that the angel glared at him, blue eyes narrowing in aggravation. “Where ya are _is_ home.” He stated, causing the demon’s breathing to halt, watching as the angel turned his attention to the connection. “I’m choosin’ to Fall!” He yells towards the connection and Alastor’s eyes widened.

**_Dong!_ **

The response came and Anthony sighed in an almost crazed, delusional manner. “I don’t need a warnin’… thank ya for takin’ in a queer like me but…” He turned to the demon, tossing him a brilliant smile, making Alastor nearly dead heart beat back to life. “But I know where I belong. An’ it’s here in Hell... with ya, Al.”

**_DONG!_ **

“Anthony…” The angel chuckled softly and let go of Alastor’s wrist, suddenly slipping out of Alastor’s hands as the sound of blasting horns layered underneath the bells. “ _Anthony_!” Alastor yelled, snapping his fingers quickly as tentacles spawned out from his home, racing towards gravity as they tried to catch the Falling angel.

White flames erupted around Anthony as he fell, both in the literal and spiritual sense, the tentacles eventually catching up and latching around his waist as the fires began to burn everything off Anthony. The echoes of Anthony’s pain filled screams reached the demon's ears. The Radio Demon hissed in pain as the fires which were burning the angel were also burning his tentacles and since they were a part of the demon he felt the white hot flames as well. Quickly, he pulled the angel onto his balcony, miraculously holding onto the angel despite the burning sensation, the wounded tentacles disappearing into their pits as he watched in horror as his angel burned before him, his screams echoing madly in his skull. He stood petrified, like the deer that he was, as he watched in vain at not being able to help Anthony during this. The Radio Demon watched as Anthony's beautiful wings burned away, turning to dust, everything he was wearing melting away, his body becoming silhouetted in the hot flames as it changed within them, getting longer and more arms sprouting, six in total coming out from his torso.

As the final sounds of bells and horns dissipated into the air, so did the flames around Anthony, leaving a naked, crying spider demon in its wake, a mixture of blue angel’s blood and tears on his face. The demon shucked off his coat without delay, wrapping it around the body of the other demon first before bringing him into his arms, remaining on the floor as the now ex-angel sobbed, the weight and lingering pain of Falling affecting him.

“Why?” Alastor asked. “ _Why_ , Anthony? I don’t understand.”

Anthony chuckled brokenly, glancing up at Alastor, surprising the Radio Demon with a new set of mismatched eyes. “I’ve had my taste of Heaven, Alastor. An’ it tasted much sweeter when I was with ya. When we were alive.”

Alastor chuckled too, effectively swooning internally at the proclamation. “You’re just…” He started but couldn’t finish as he soon broke his own vow and cried before Anthony, he attempting to keep his sobs subdued. Anthony blinked in shock at seeing the other cry, one hand reaching up to wipe away at some of the tears gently, Alastor leaning into the hand that then rested on his cheek. “I never wanted you to know the truth.” The Radio Demon stated through his tears. “I didn’t want you to somehow be accepting of what I was; to bring you into the hell of the secrets of my life. I also didn’t want to lose you. You, who changed me, made me want to be better but I… I failed, darling. Then and now. I couldn’t—“

“Shh… shh…” The spider demon shushed him, taking a thumb to wipe away at fresh tears. “Ya don't have to let me go, Alastor. I have, an’ will always be yours. You’ll never have to let me go ever again.”

Alastor sighed, feeling both relieved and dejected, but mostly relieved. And in all honesty, he was happy. He didn’t deserve the sacrifice his angel had made for him, and there wasn’t much more he could offer the other in repayment, but if this was to be a part of his punishment, to endlessly having to fulfill this payment to the ex-angel, he would gladly spend the rest of eternity trying to make it up to him. “I love you, _mon ange_.” The Radio Demon confessed, smiling sweetly at the spider demon in his arms.

The ex-angel giggles, shaking his head tiredly. “I’m no longer an angel…”

“Nonsense. You’ll always be _my_ angel.” Alastor responds, leaning down to place his forehead to Anthony’s.

At that the ex-angel giggles again, softer and somehow more sweeter sounding to the deer demon’s ears. “I love you too, Alastor. Now an’ always.”

No other words needed to be spoken between them as they leaned in closer, lips touching lips for the first time in decades. It was a moment that was long since coming; ever since an angel and a demon met in Hell.

</|\> </|\> </|\>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapters were very long. I did say though these were going to be very long so at least there was that forewarning.
> 
> Also I lied. There’s going to be another chapter. I’ll leave the content as a surprise but it’ll be shorter in comparison than these two chapters. And it'll probably be the end of this alternative as I'll return to the original Angel!Anthony. If I decide to add onto this version it'll just be another randomly added chapter to keep it separate. 
> 
> So anyways, as another author’s comparison note, this version of Angel!Anthony obviously Falls a lot sooner than the original version. I state it to be that this version of Anthony falls in the 70s. Basically the first couple meetings after the first one happen in the 50s and it takes 20 years for Anthony to decide that he's Falling, this time for Alastor and not for the hotel (and Alastor). 
> 
> Originally I got this story idea from Lana Del Rey’s “Young and Beautiful” (honestly it was Madilyn Bailey’s cover I was listening to) since I pictured it as it talking about Anthony’s glitz and glamor star fandom in the movies and he asking the Gatekeeper once he died if Alastor could come in with him. But honestly, as this went on it became more and more like “Heaven” by Julia Michaels. I picture the Nightcore version to match more. Here’s a link if you guys want to check it out:  
> https://youtu.be/HQTnZVokzsI


	3. An Angel and a Demon Walk into a Hotel

</|\> </|\> </|\>

After a predictably horrendous announcement on Channel 666 News, the Princess of Hell and her girlfriend rode in silence back to the hotel. The princess couldn’t imagine it going any worse besides being mocked on live television for all of Hell to see, since they also didn’t even have a patron yet, business was not looking so well for her sinner rehabilitation plan. After another exasperated sigh left the princess, her girlfriend placed a hand on her arm reassuringly. “Don’t worry, Charlie. I’m sure things will work out. We just need to keep trying.”

“Oh, I know that, Vaggie.” Charlie states, nodding in agreement. “But it’s just hard to keep the hope up. We’re not really moving anywhere and I spent all of my savings on this.” Not to mention her father, the King of Hell, Lucifer, cut her off financially so she was basically dead on arrival with her hotel unless some miracle occurred.

“We’ll think of something.” Vaggie, ever trying to be the optimist for the princess said with a warm smile. But to be honest, she herself was not feeling as optimistic as she seemed. They needed demons to come to the hotel, to just make an attempt at least but all Hell seemed to truly care about was turf wars, which demon was on top, and which overlord challenged the other. And of course drugs, alcohol and sex.

When they arrived the two female demons entered the hotel, Charlie’s bodyguards trailing behind them as they flew up into the rafters of the hotel’s lobby. Vaggie, feeling suddenly tired, collapsed onto one of the few not overturned or tilted sofas in the lobby, sighing exhaustedly. Charlie took this opportunity to go outside and call her mother, being sent to voicemail, as usual. She felt her heart get so heavy as she finished her message, feeling so much dejection from today’s events. She re-entered the hotel, wiping a stray tear that fell from her face as she leaned against the front doors, sliding down them just slightly before several, musically themed knocks sounded behind her. She jumped away from the doors, turning to face the doors; eventually swinging a door wide open to reveal none other than the infamous Radio Demon. “Hel—“She closed the door, turning for a quick second in shock before she opened it again. “—lo!” She closed the door again, this time heading away from the doors and back to her girlfriend.

“Hey, Vaggie?”

“What?” The gray demon sounded exhausted, a hand on her forehead as the beginnings of a migraine were coming on.

“The Radio Demon is at the door!”

“ _What_?” Vaggie repeated, this time with more duress as she pulled herself into a sitting position suddenly. _And…_ there’s the migraine.

“What should I do?” The princess asks in her own duress, her hands dragging down the sides of her face.

“Well, don’t let him in!” Vaggie says with a tone that screams ‘no, duh’.

Charlie ponders on that for a second, turning to face the doors again. The hotel was meant to be an idea with wide open doors for any demon seeking redemption. Their whole goal was to not turn away a demon in need to help them until they find themselves in Heaven. To the princess, as bad as it is that the Radio Demon is at her doors, she couldn’t really begin to imagine to at least not hear him out. Perhaps the demon was seeking redemption himself? Turning him away now, if he were it would not be a good sign to the already horrible stance the hotel has with the rest of Hell.

And so, despite her better judgment and Vaggie’s own well-placed suggestion, the princess heads back to the door, opening it to reveal the red deer demon, still in place, waiting patiently. “May I speak now?” He asks politely, it almost throwing Charlie off. Though she knew of him, who really didn’t after all, she’s never met him before so the ideal of _what_ he is certainty didn’t match her first impression with how gentlemanly he was acting.

“You may.” She answers, trying her best to remain calm.

“Alastor! Pleasure to be meeting you sweetheart, quite the pleasure!” The demon suddenly exclaims, surprising her as he reached for her wrist, giving it a quick yank before allowing himself in. “Excuse our sudden visit but I just saw your fiasco on the picture show and I just couldn’t resist!”

Wait… _our_ sudden visit? Charlie then turns to face the door again, seeing a very tall, somehow very pretty spider demon standing just off the side of the door she opened. He was almost all white, which was strange for a demon, with pink markings. He wore a pink and white stripped tux jacket, a tight black skirt, and mid-thigh black boots with high heels. She questioned, for a moment, whether the demon was in fact actually male; he looked like it save for some of his clothing and the obvious bosom on his chest, which was actually bigger than _hers_. The white demon wiggled his fingers in a wave, tossing the princess a small, yet sweet smile, before he _too_ invited himself in behind the Radio Demon.

“What a performance!” Alastor continued behind her as she whipped around again, the white demon, whom did look somewhat familiar to her somehow, choose to stand beside her, he watching the red demon with an almost loving smile, if she didn’t know better... did she know better? “Why I haven’t been that entertained since the stock market crash of 1929! So many orphans…” The princess heard the white demon snort and saw him roll his eyes, his lower set of arms upon his hips.

Vaggie leapt into action, angelic spear pointed to Alastor as she started to threaten him, the white demon taking this opportunity to introduce himself to the demon princess, extending an upper hand to her. “Hey doll, the name’s Angel Dust. I’m Alastor’s wife.”

“Wife?” The princess echoes back, shocked, but she shakes his hand nonetheless, her eyes glancing to his left hands to see that, yes, there is a ring on one those two hands. She only caught a glimpse of it but she thought she saw something of a red stone in the ring. “I didn’t know the Radio Demon had a wife.”

Before Angel could explain the two were distracted by Alastor’s voice reaching their ears, Charlie closing the door finally before she walked, carefully, around the deer demon to stand behind her girlfriend. “Dear, if I wanted to hurt anyone here, I’d done so already!” Static popped and fill the air as demonic symbols floated around his head. From behind him the spider demon groaned and slapped a hand to his face. “No, we’re here because we want to help!” Alastor says suddenly, both the static and the symbols disappearing quickly.

“Say what now?” The princess remarks, confused as Hell, honestly.

“Help!” Alastor repeated with a laugh. “Hello! Is this thing on? Testing, testing.” He says, tapping the mic to wake it up.

“Well, I heard you loud and clear!” The demonic mic responds in a slightly agitated tone.

“As did I, babe!” Angel agrees with a wink towards the red demon.

Charlie side glances at Vaggie then. “Um… you want to help with…?” She asks questioningly, the confusion skyrocketing between both of them.

The Radio Demon disappears into a shadow and reappears behind them, surprising them both, as he places a hand on each of them. “This ridiculous thing you’re trying to do, this hotel! We want to help you run it.” He says, gesturing his head back to the spider demon.

“Uh, why?”

The red demon laughs as Angel walks behind him, taking in a couple of the sights of the hotel as his husband continues to talk. “Why does anyone do anything? Sheer absolute boredom!” He explains, his hands resting on his smiling face with a dramatic flair.

The spider demon, nods in the background, looking at some of the pictures, one of which he straightens with a hand. “He gets bored easily, he’s always been that way.” He states lazily, turning to face the four demons.

“I've lacked inspiration for decades—save for my sweet angel, of course—“Alastor quickly adds, smiling at his angel, Charlie picking up the _slightest_ change in the smile that made it appear to be not as creepy.

Angel Dust placed his lower set of arms back on his hips, cocking it to the side in a playful fashion. “Hm-hmm.” He sounded with a smirk.

Honestly if anything was confusing the Princess of Hell and Vaggie, it was the two’s interaction, once again the overall reputation of the Radio Demon truly not matching their interaction and the very blatant lack of fear that the spider demon has for the deer demon.

“—My work became mundane, lacking focus. Aimless!” The Radio Demon picks up again, quickly pushing Vaggie away, eliciting another groan from Angel, all without skipping a beat. “I’ve come seeking a new form of entertainment!”

The princess clasps her hands before her, watching out of the corner of her eye as Vaggie reproaches her side. “Does getting into a fist fight with a reporter count as entertainment?

The spider demon goes to stand by Alastor’s side, smiling broadly at the two females before them. “It’s the purest kind, doll, reality!” The angel brings out his hands, giving them a dramatic wiggle in the air. “Can’t get much better than that.”

Alastor then locks his arm with one of Angel’s lower ones, pulling him in just a touch closer for their shoulders to touch. The two shared a knowing smile, Alastor swinging his free hand up and Angel mimicking him with his free arms on his other side. “After all, the world is a stage, and the stage is a world of entertainment!” The two males say together as if rehearsed.

Though something told the females that they were just naturally in sync.

The princess, trying mentally to push through the strangeness of this day gives a hopeful, yet quiet sigh. “So does this mean that you think that it’s possible to rehabilitate a demon?” She asks, nervous as to what the duo before her would answer.

“Of course not!” The deer demon automatically responds, causing the princess’ face to drop. What was she expecting after all? “That’s whacky nonsense! Redemption, oh, the nonexistent inhumanity! No—“

Suddenly, all Hell broke loose as the spider demon clasped two hands over Alastor’s mouth, the static and symbols popping up again but the spider demon seemingly unfazed to literally anything the Radio Demon is doing, including the offhanded sideways glare that the deer was giving him. “But of course there’s always a chance!” Angel interrupts, smiling as the look on Charlie’s face improves and Vaggie’s turns into one of disbelief, keeping a weary eye on the deer demon. “If an angel can Fall, a demon can rise.” He says simply, glancing at Alastor’s glare dead on. “ _Right…_ Al?”

In response, the Radio Demon gives a shrug, neither denying nor accepting that challenge. The deer demon continued on with his train of thought as he removes the hands off his mouth, the static and symbols once again drifting away, though the females noticed that the Radio Demon held onto those hands for a lot longer than necessary. “The chance given was the life they lived before, their punishment is this!” The red demon gave a curt turn, throwing his arms up; gesturing towards the hotel is a snide comment.

Angel gives a one-shoulder shrug, sighing as he walks away from the deer demon, interrupting him before he could finish. “Ya would know more than anyone, wouldn’t ya?”

The comment sounded like an insult, and visibly the females saw the Radio Demon’s demeanor change, his face’s smile dropping just enough. It is then that Alastor decided to remain quiet for now, he always losing to his wife whenever he brings up their strained past.

The gray female demon scoffs then, not really caring for their interactions just wanting an explanation as to why they’re _truly_ here. “So, then why do you guys want to help if you’re torn?” She asks them, eyeing them both suspiciously.

Alastor quickly breaks his own self-proposed silence as he steps forward. “Consider it an investment, an ongoing entertainment for myself! I want to watch the scum of the world struggle to climb up the hill of betterment only to repeatedly trip and tumble down into the fiery pit of failure!”

Angel and Charlie shared the same facial expression as together they sounded out the same word together. “Right…”

As Alastor took the reins over and continued his conversation with Charlie, Angel took it upon himself to talk to the other demon. Upon him walking up she gave another scoff. “And who are you again?”

“I’m Angel Dust, Alastor’s wife.” The spider answers simply. “An’ before ya say anythin’, yes, I know I named myself after a drug. It was actually unintentional.”

Vaggie blinked slowly. “You said you were his _wife_?” She wanted to clarify, ignoring the statement of the naming-himself-after-a-drug, not believing that one bit.

“Yep!”

“Why didn’t I know that he had a wife?” She asks, crossing her arms before her. She made it a mission to know as much as she could about all of the powerful demons in Hell. The fact that she herself didn’t know that the Radio Demon was even _married,_ let alone that a demon could be this comfortable with him was quite unbelievable.

“Not many denizens of Hell know.” Angel states nonchalantly. “He likes to keep it a secret, says it messes with his rep.” He leans in then, getting close to her ear, which she flinches away from but he moves in closer again, closing the distance as he whispers her a secret. “But really he just doesn’t want his enemies to target me. He’s really sweet underneath all that murder.” He straightens, tossing a glance to the said demon as he continues to talk with the princess.

She really doubted that, glancing towards the said Radio Demon as well. “If he’s trying to cover it up, you two are being really cozy here.” Vaggie says, dragging Angel’s attention back to her.

“Ah, well we _are_ tryin’ to keep it low-key but we both decided it’s better goin’ in here all open an’ junk. Better for gainin’ one’s trust, after all.” He claims, raising his hands up in the air defensively.

Vaggie, once again gets suspicious of that, not really wanting to give either of them her trust. “I still can’t believe that someone like the Radio Demon would _want_ to spend that much energy protecting another demon.”

“It’s no secret that he’s a bastard, a prick an’ an asshole,” the spider states then, obviously aware of his husband’s tendencies, probably more than any other resident in Hell, “but I still love him anyways!” He then sighs dreamily, eyes lolling up to the sky in a sickening way, at least to Vaggie. “So, anyway, tell me, what staff do ya have?” She narrows her eyes at him, her arms before her getting tighter, she refusing to answer him. The white demon’s eyes widen then as an exasperated sigh escapes him. “Oh, God, don’t tell me it’s just ya an’ the princess! You’re gonna need more than that.” Another sigh escapes him as he looks around the lobby once more. “I’m sure Al and I can call in a couple favors an’ make this dump look decent at least.”

Vaggie ignores the insult onto the hotel, pointing a finger accusingly at Angel Dust. “I don’t trust him, or you for that matter since I know next to nothing about you!”

“That’s why we get to know each other, toots!” The white demon responds, his tone conveying the sarcastic obviousness of that statement. “But, to be fair do you trust anyone? Any man? Ya seem like one that doesn’t trust the opposite sex much.” He adds, smirking at her sinisterly.

Vaggie’s eyes narrows at her again as she ignores that statement, walking up to talk to Charlie as it appeared that she just finished talking with the Radio Demon in turn.

Angel and Alastor, also meet up, the two standing before a family portrait of the Magne royal family. “You’re not gonna believe this, babe,” Angel starts, “they have _no_ hotel staff. Just that broad an’ the princess.”

Alastor chuckles, adjusting his monocle as he did so. “Oh, dear. Seems like this certainty won’t be boring at all!”

“I just wanna see if this scheme works or nah.” Angel responds, both sets of arms crossing before him.

Alastor’s expression change then as he glanced at the ex-angel. When he had brought up to Angel that this hotel was opening up and what the princess had planned to do with it, Angel Dust’s face lit up, pure intrigue growing from it. It made his stomach do a flip, his mind racing at the prospect of maybe the ex-angel _finally_ regrets Falling from Heaven for him, this hotel being his chance to redeem himself back up to Heaven’s Gates. He regretted bringing it up, but he was still getting bored again, and it seemed to him that so was his wife so he thought perhaps this could entertain them both for a while. Plus it was something that they could do together.

The Radio Demon glances down at the ring on his angel’s upper left hand, a white gold ring with rose gold metal that was twisted and imbedded into the side of the ring, coming up to hold a single red diamond in a rose gold clasp. He remembered getting that ring made for his love, the butterflies in his stomach as he designed it (and the utter joy he got from the jeweler nearly pissing himself every time he came into his store). It was meant to represent the both of them and their journey together (and apart). He was far more nervous showing it to Angel than when he had first asked him to marry him. His own wedding band, which was a matching one to Angels’ just a wider band with the diamond set into the ring itself, he kept it around his neck on a necklace, to keep from his enemies from finding out he had family here. But ever since then Alastor had picked up Angel’s old habit of reaching for his necklace, to make sure it was still there and whenever he felt just a bit dejected, like now but he kept his hands behind his back, clasped tightly together to not show any weakness to the new demons in the room.

After all, Angel Dust _was_ partially right before; he still did have his reputation to protect. It was this exact reputation that was keeping demons off of them in the first place.

Angel saw Alastor eying the ring, glancing down to it for a second before smiling lovingly back at his husband. In the nearly four decades since he Fell, they have been married for nearly most of it, taking several years to really work out through their issues and get back into that once familiar groove of being lovers. The spider placed a hand gently on the shorter male’s face, bringing it up gently to have red eyes meet his mismatched ones. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere.” He states, as if knowing what was going through the Radio Demon’s mind. “I love ya, Al. An’ I ain’t about to get my ass back up there to go through that Fallin’ shit again. Fuckin’ shit burns too much on the way down.”

At that Alastor laughs, feeling instantly better. He was glad that his angel didn’t change too much over the course of his existence. Though he did love the fact that now his angel was now a prolific and efficient demon killer, he was glad his personality was still the same after all these years; if not slightly bit darker due to his own demonic influence. “Thank you, darling. _Je t’aime aussi, mon ange_.”

“ _De meme pour toi_.” The spider demon says in French, _that_ being another, very pleasant change. Alastor’s smile turned upwards at the edges for just like his Creole accent did something to Angel, whenever Angel spoke in French it made Alastor sometimes forget he was asexual. The spider demon purposely taught himself French just to get back at Alastor for using his Creole accent against him one too many times, now having his own ammunition against the deer demon.

Angel tossed a wink to the Radio Demon as he breaks away, the Princess of Hell approaching him as he reluctantly turned his attention to her, his smile narrowing to try to attempt to look not as intimidating. For Angel’s sake. “Ok, so, Al, you’re creepy as fuck and you clearly see what I’m trying to do here is a joke, but I don’t!”

From the other side of the room, the spider demon, poking a balloon in boredom added his own two cents in. “I’m in the same boat with ya, sis.”

Charlie continued, getting a little bit more confidence from the spider demon’s vote of hope. “I think everyone has a chance to prove they can be better so I’m taking your offer to help on the condition that there’s no trickster, voodoo strings attached.”

Alastor rolled his eyes but summoned his staff, giving it a twirl as he extends a hand out to her. “So, it’s a deal then?” Green light and energy erupts from him surprising everyone one else but Angel Dust, of course.

“Really? You’re gonna turn this into a deal, Al?” Angel comments, crossing his four arms before him, giving a light glare to the Radio Demon.

“Nope!” The princess interjects, waving the hand away, all magic going away instantly. “No shaking, no deals! As Princess of Hell and heir to the throne, I hereby order that you and Angel Dust to help with this hotel for as long as you desire. Sound fair?”

The Radio Demon tosses a glance at Angel, whom was still glaring at him from afar, and he gives a shrug, the mic stand disappearing in a flash. “Fair enough!” He answers simply causing Angel to roll his eyes again.

“Cool beans!” The princess states, losing her composure as the Radio Demon walks away to stand before Vaggie.

“Smile my dear! You know you’re never fully dressed without one!” The Radio Demon says, picking on her as she grew angry quickly at the statement. The deer demon coolly escapes as he then looks around the lobby truly for the first time. “Well, my angel has informed me you don’t have much staff! Let me call in a couple favors to liven things up!” With a snap of his finger fire erupts from a nearby, falling apart fireplace, a silhouetted figure being deposited inside it. He pulls the being out by the back of the dress, one solitary eye snapping open before the black soot poofed off her, revealing a tiny little demon. “This little darling is Nifty!”

Alastor releases her and she lands, almost, on her feet, standing quickly as her eye darts around the room before her. “Hi I’m Nifty! It’s nice to meet you! It’s been a while since I’ve made new friends!” She then rushes out to Charlie, Vaggie pulling out her spear again in defense as the little demon rushes around energetically. “Why are you all women here? Are they any men here? Sorry that’s rude. Man this place is filthy; it really needs a lady’s touch, which is weird because you’re both ladies, no offense!”

Angel chuckles as he walks over to join Alastor’s side once more. “Don’t worry Niffs, I got that part covered.” The ex-angel snaps his own fingers; invisible force energy rushing around as all the furniture is rearranged, magically being repaired at the same time. The energy then goes around to fix any broken columns, straightening all the pictures and posters and patching up any wallpaper that was either ripping off the wall or had any gaps. Nifty gives Angel two thumbs up as she then goes around cleaning the place, dusting and stabbing bugs with needles. The Princess of Hell beams brightly, aweing and oohing at the touches as she begins to jump up and down excitedly.

Suddenly from the other corner of the room a new voice reached all their ears, Angel and Alastor smiling over in that direction. “Read them and weep boys! Full—whoa... The hell?” A winged cat demon appeared sitting at a poker table that was pulled away from the casino. The gruff sounding demon whipped around in his chair, glancing at his strange new locale with a suspicious gaze. “What the fuck is this? You!” He says suddenly, pointing towards Alastor and Angel.

Angel giggles and rushes over, leaning on the poker table with a lower arm. “Husker! My pal! Nice to see ya, did ya miss me?”

“Don’t you Husker me you half rate demon!” The cat demon insulted, Angel rolling his eyes at the half-baked insult. “I was about to win the whole damn pot!” He yells as suddenly the table and everything on it disappears into a barrage of static, Angel leaning away from the table perfectly on time with it disappearing.

The Radio Demon joined them, smiling that ever-present smile to Husk. “Nice to see you too.” He says, smirking at the cat.

“The hell do you guys want from me this time?” Husk asks dejectedly, a hand plastered onto his face. With the two of them here he barely had a chance in Hell to escape. Even if he was only going up against one of them at a time, both demons were too clinically insane, in their own ways, and far too powerful against him.

“Al and I have started working here at this hotel and we decided to tag you along for the ride. I hope that’s ok?” Angel supplied, batting his eyes at Husk pleadingly.

“It’s charity work my good friend!” The deer demon adds with a growing grin as he watched Husk squirm at the prospect.

“Are you shittin’ me?”

“No, I don’t think so!” Both the Radio Demon’s magical laugh track and Angel’s laughter are heard then, blending together perfectly to the deer’s ears.

“You thought it would be some big fuckin’ riot to just pull me out of nowhere? Do you think I’m some fuckin' clown?”

“Maybe!” Once again the laugh track and Angel laughed, both demons apparently finding joy in getting a rise out of the cat demon.

“I ain’t doing no fuckin' charity job!”

Angel steps in then, leaning closer to Husk to the point that the cat demon has to physically lean away as to not incur the wrath of the Radio Demon for being too close to his mate. “Oh come on! With that cute face and dashin’ smile you’d be perfect for the front desk!” Angel added more insult to injury by placing fingers on either side of his mouth, tilting the corners up in a short lasting smile before it dropped into a heavy scowl once more.

The Radio Demon saunters over to the said front desk, soon waving a hand over the counter. “Don’t worry my friend; I can make this more welcoming, if you wish.” A bottle of appropriately named ‘cheap booze’ appearing on the counter as the arm finished passing over.

Husk approached the bottle and glared at it, and then at Alastor. “What you think you can just win me over with a wink and some cheep booze?! Cause ya can!” He says quickly, knowing full well if it wasn’t that it was going to be the wrath of both demons for disobeying orders.

The gray female demon then quickly rushes before the bar. “Hey, hey, hey! No, no bar, no alcohol this is supposed to be a place that discourages sin! Not, not—“

Before she could finish the spider demon leans casually on it, glancing at one hand’s pink nails lazily. “Actually drinkin’ isn’t considered a sin, it’s just a vice.” He says as if it’s common knowledge.

This raises more suspicions to Vaggie as she narrows her eyes at him. “What?”

Any other questions were then quickly forgotten as Charlie rushes up to Husk who was almost already done with his bottle of cheap booze. “Oh, my gosh! Welcome to the Happy Hotel! You are going to love it here!” The princess enthusiastically states, jumping in place with her boundless energy.

“I lost the ability to love years ago.” Hush responded back turning his body away from her and her energy.

The spider demon approached the princess then, all four hands stretched out in a showy manner. “So, whaddya think?”

“This is amazing!” Charlie responds, her overall joy levels much higher as compared to when this weird, confusing interaction had started.

Her girlfriend on the other hand was not as ecstatic. “It’s ok.”

The Radio Demon chuckles faintly, bringing the two females into somewhat of a group side hug. “This is going to be very entertaining!” He then pushes Vaggie away once more, fire starting in his free hand as his outfit suddenly changes, the flame shooting upwards as music begins to magically be heard. As he then starts to sing, he gives Charlie a twirl, soon her own outfit changing to that of a 1930s apparel, the lighting changing in the hotel as he sang.

“ _You have a dream_

_You wish to tell_

_And it's just laughable…”_

Alastor glanced at Angel then at that line, receiving an eyebrow raise and yet another warning glare before turning back to Charlie.

_“But hey kid what the hell_

_'Cause you're one of a kind_

_That charming demon belle!”_

Just as suddenly as Alastor began to sing, Angel Dust took pulled back Vaggie, whom he was already restraining, and started to sing towards her. _“Now, let's give these burnin' fools a place to dwell!”_ Their own outfits changed as Alastor snapped his fingers, Angel _almost_ wavering as he noticed that Alastor had dressed him in that same ostrich feather dress, even complete with the wig, that he wore when he performed as Miss Antonia, that first fateful night they met in Hollywood back in the 30s. Alastor soon appears by Angel’s side, popping up from the shadows once again as he snapped his fingers as Angel continued singing. _“Take it, boys!”_ Angel sang, commanding Alastor’s minions in his place as they arrived, playing their instruments, revealing they to be the source of the music.

The Radio Demon sung the next line, passing through the demon in the hotel in an almost flamboyant way. “ _Inside of every demon, is a lost cause!”_

The spider demon elbows him then, taking the liberty of singing the next line as Alastor adds some extra accessories onto Vaggie’s new outfit, giving her a slap on the back for added emphasis as Angel finished his line. “ _But we'll dress 'em up for now with just a smile!”_

Alastor danced down the lobby of the hotel with flair, kicking a skull for fun as he sang, Nifty quickly cleaning up the broken skull as it crashed to the floor. “ _Oh, we'll chlorinate this cesspool with some old redemption flair!”_

At the end of the lobby his angel joined him, the spider’s upper set of hands joining with Alastor’s own, he soon pulled to Alastor’s side as Alastor’s main shadow took his other side, it smiling at them like a grinning puppy would its masters. “ _An’ show these simpletons some proper class an’ style!”_

Alastor pulled on Angel then, past the princess who was standing happily next to her girlfriend, Angel Dust giving her a playful wink as Alastor led him into a dance. Charlie begins to clap furiously at their performance as they danced and sang together, she in awe at how the feathering on Angel Dust’s dress truly did make him look like an actual angel instead of a demon.

_“Here below the ground_

_I'm sure your plan is sound_

_They'll spend a little time_

_Down at this Hazbin Ho—“_

The two are interrupted as one of the front doors of the hotel bursts off its handle, flying though the air and hitting Nifty. Angel gasps, his upper hands covering his mouth as one of his lower set reach out to the OCD inflicted demon. “Nifty!” He calls out to her, quickly sighing as she pokes herself out from behind the door.

Alastor snaps his fingers, the hotel returning back to normal, including their outfits, as they all poke their heads out from behind the remaining door, Alastor’s head tilting in aggravation as to who in the Hell would interrupt their musical number.

Officially walking outside, the group sees Sir Pentious’ blimp flying precariously before the hotel, the snake overlord poking his head out from a window’s opening. “Ha! Well, well, well! Look who it is harboring the Stripped Freak!” He insults, referring to Angel Dust who in turns feigns confusion, bringing a hand to his chest fluff daintily. “We meet again, Alastor!” He then states, attention being dragged to the Radio Demon.

“Do I know you?” Alastor responds comically, his mate bursting out into laugher.

This makes one of Sir Pentious’ eyes twitch. “Oh, yes you do!” He yells back, going back into the blimp with renewed vigor. “And this time I have the element of… surprise!”

Alastor glances to Angel, his eyes questioning silently. The spider demon heaves a sigh, raising a hand lazily in the air as he takes a big step back. “He’s all yours, Al! I had my fun with him earlier with Cherri." In the background, Charlie slaps a fist into her palm at the sudden realization of why she thought Angel Dust looked familiar. When she was at the news station, they were covering the turf war with none other than Sir Pentious, and Angel Dust was there, assisting Cherri Bomb in her exploits against the snake demon.

Alastor’s smile grows, getting the permission from his wife (not that he really needed it to begin with) and he turns his attention back to the blimp, he snapping his fingers then. His tentacles soon reach out, coming from a large pit that opened up under the blimp. A smaller pit opens as the tentacles wrap around the flying machine, catching a wayward missile perfectly as it closes behind it. His shadows come out as well, circling the blimp as terror unfolds inside. Angel watches with a growing smirk on his face as the rest of the demons watch on in their own horror at the spectacle before them. Within moments the blimp gets crushed in the tentacles, machine bits flying in every direction as soon the tentacles disappear back into the pit, the spider demon clapping his hands together in a calm, soft manner.

The Radio Demon suddenly glances back at them, a large smile on his face. “Well, I’m starved!” He quickly turns to face the others; staff disappearing and arms extended outwards, Angel smiling at him with an added giggle or two. “Who wants some jambalaya?” He asks, walking through the group of demons before him, both Nifty and Angel Dust being the first to proceed after the deer demon back towards the hotel. “My mother once showed me a wonderful recipe for jambalaya, in fact, it nearly killed her!” Angel chuckles with Alastor, knowing the full story behind that statement. “You can say the kick was right out of Hell!” The spider demon snorts. Well that was _one_ way to put it in simple terms. Not long after, the rest of the newly expanded staff follow after them, all of them not truly knowing what lies next. “Oh-ho, I am on a roll! Yes, sir, this is the start of some _real_ changes down here!”

And real changes _were_ going to happen. After all, without the Princess of Hell and her girlfriend knowing, they were in the midst of a Fallen angel and his mate who would turn this catastrophe of a Hazbin Hotel into a redemption sensation.

</|\> </|\> </|\>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there you have it! My version of the modified pilot episode with Fallen angel Anthony in the mix! Also ironically the page count is lucky # 13! Beautiful. Also, I had to watch the end of the episode so many times to get the lines and actions right.
> 
> Song Used (obviously): “Alastor’s Reprise” from Hazbin Hotel (ft. Angel Dust).
> 
> “Je t’aime aussi, mon ange” is French for “I love you too, my angel”.  
> “De meme pour toi” is French for “Right back at you”.
> 
> Thanks everyone for reading this alternate of an alternate universe! We will now resume our regularly scheduled programming!
> 
> Stay tuned~!


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